


Protect Me Big Brother

by greeny1710



Series: The Chaotic Trio verse [8]
Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: A lot of other people are in it, Adopted Sibling Relationship, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bullying, But he does try to treat Max well, Charles is an angsty dramatic teenager in this, Derogatory Language, Emotional Hurt, Fighting between siblings, Fluff, He doesn’t treat Seb well in this, Hurt/Comfort, It takes a while for any kind of fluff to happen ngl, Lots of Angst, M/M, Mick Is not a good person in this, Physical Abuse, Self-Doubt, Sexual Abuse, Sexual Harassment, Sibling Jealousy, Sibling Rivalry, Underage Drinking, Verbal Abuse, but I’ve only tagged those that are important to the narrative, kind off??, lots of swearing, self-destructive behaviour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:21:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 18
Words: 99,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22511686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greeny1710/pseuds/greeny1710
Summary: Max used to do anything to hide his reality from his family, particularly his brother.Now it's Charles' turn to protect his brother from reality, and Charles doesn't anticipate just how badly that's going to mess things up
Relationships: Daniel Ricciardo/Max Verstappen, Kimi Räikkönen/Sebastian Vettel
Series: The Chaotic Trio verse [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1594924
Comments: 609
Kudos: 439





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by the delightful **myplacewillalwaysbespace** on tumblr, who sent me a very lovely and long prompt message that I have been obsessed with for a little while. 
> 
> So. This is going to be really painful. Charles is going to get really badly hurt and it’s going to have a lot of abuse towards him in it, not from his family or anyone that actually matters, so physical violence is a massive trigger warning for this fic.
> 
> There will be a happy ending and it’s going to be painful to get there but I cried when I wrote it so I really hope you enjoy this. But please, just take care of yourselves. If you are at all triggered by bullying, verbal or physical violence or sexual harassment/abuse, you might want to skip this one. And if you do want to skip, if you send me a message on tumblr or drop me a comment, I’ll do you a summary of this fic if you do still want to know what happens but cannot read for self care reasons. 
> 
> **This first chapter does not feature any form of abuse, and I will be sure to update Chapter Notes at the start of every chapter to indicate what is happening, so please be sure to keep checking them**
> 
> It is also for this reason that I have made the decision to split the fic into chapters. I will be tagging each chapter in the notes with trigger warnings so that you know when specific things will happen, as not all chapters will feature abuse but may have panic attacks or other triggering content and also it would be painful to read this monstrosity as one giant text post so I split it up to make it easier for you :)
> 
> But yeah. I’m very excited to be sharing this fic, I’ve been working on it since the start of the year pretty much and it’s been the most painful to do. I hope you do enjoy it friends x

The feeling of watching his brother completely breakdown, hearing the sobs ripping from his very core and scream that he was going to die, it all haunted Charles’ nightmares. Every night that he closed his eyes, the same dream would wake him up. The image of Max, huddled in a corner of the toilets, shaking so violently Charles was convinced he would get burnt if he touched him. His hands pressed around his head and tugging at his short hair, screams and sobs ripping through him to the point that Charles wasn’t even sure if it was Max or an alarm going off. 

They were twins. 

Two halves of a whole.

Two halves of the same soul.

And Charles felt his own soul being destroyed the further Max got lost in the pits of despair. He’d held his brother, held in his own pain whilst he fought to get him back, to bring Max back to the surface and protect him from the dark recesses of his own mind. 

There were few places Charles wouldn’t venture into. 

But Max’s head was one of those off limits places. 

It was so dark and so scary. Charles had spent numerous nights during the last few years scaring himself awake and having to run and check that Max was still alive, still in his bed, his mind having not fucked them over. Max never gave any indication it would, but Charles feared every day for him. 

They were one being. One entity. One whole. They’d always had each other’s back. Protected each other. They were better when the other was around. 

And for his family to just immediately assume that Charles could fuck his brother over and take his boyfriend when he knew Max was at the darkest point he’d been for a long time? That really hurt. 

Charles knew he had a reputation for being a fuck-and-duck kinda guy. He didn’t do relationships and he’d definitely broken up more relationships than he could count. But he would never, ever, do it to either of his brothers. Especially not Max. He put his brothers first, every single time. And yet, they couldn't put him first. 

And Charles couldn’t understand what he did that meant he was the one that their dads assumed caused everything to go wrong. 

He knew it was Max that their fathers worried about all the time. He’d always been quiet, always been alone. And he always got stuck in his own head. Their fathers had always made him and Valtteri look out for Max just that bit more, made sure that Max was always okay first. 

He knew their fathers loved them all equally. 

But sometimes, Charles did feel like the spare part. An afterthought. Something that his dads only took with them because Max used to scream when they moved him away from Charles when they were little. 

He’d never bonded with Valtteri in the same way Max had. 

Valtteri was smart too. But in his own way. He was phenomenal on the ice, a rising skating prodigy throughout their childhood. It was like he’d been born to skate. And Max was born to come up with strategy. They’d bonded over it, even as little boys. Max had been the one to figure out how Valtteri should play his matches and exactly what he needed to do to get the plays he needed in order to win. 

It wasn’t that Charles and Valtteri didn’t get along. But they didn’t have that common ground that he saw with his twin and their older brother. They had stats, and numbers, and research to bond over. Science and all that smart stuff.

Charles was more into fashion, art, drama. He’d never been book-smart, and he barely scraped by his year 11 GCSEs exams (which he would’ve failed had Max not basically taught him everything he needed to know). He wanted to go to university and study fashion and be the next big name in the industry. Nothing like his brothers or Dad. And he knew, he really did know, that as much as they loved and supported him, they didn’t understand why he wanted to go into that world so badly. They all chose Proper Professions for their dream jobs, but Charles didn’t want that. The only time he’d ever felt comfortable was when his Dad had stuck a colouring pencil in his hand at the age of five and Charles had drawn the masterpiece that had hung above their fireplace in every single house they’d lived in. 

If art was good enough for their Isä, why was it not good enough for Charles? 

Because it wasn’t his Isä that was being compared against Max. 

Max was so fucking clever. Charles knew he’d never meet anyone quite like his brother. The way Max’s mind worked was amazing. He’d been the first to walk, the first to talk, the first to learn to read and write and spell and do maths. And Charles had always been in the wind. He’d always been the one trailing after him. 

And when their dads adopted them just before they turned five, it was like their worlds had changed. Suddenly, Charles was on an even playing field to Max. 

And then they’d got separated at school. And no one could compare them anymore. 

Suddenly, Charles was the better one. He was the one that could go and make friends and talk to people without going bright red and he wasn’t a smartass freak like Max. 

Because that’s what it always came back to. 

Max was so clever. He was too clever. And Charles hated him for it. 

But he still loved his brother. And he’d still do anything to protect and help him, even if it had his family assume he was the bad guy. Sometimes he had to be the bad guy in order to make his brother’s life better. 

Because it always, _always_ came back to Max.

It was Max who was going to go to a top tier university.

It was Max who consistently amazed people with how clever he was.

It was Max who was learning at seventeen how to be in this world and not be terrified of it every single second on the day. 

It was Max who fell in love with the most amazing, perfect guy _for him_ and learn what it was like to be loved for who you are and not just because people _have_ to. 

It was Max who was scared of the future but had Daniel by his side and their fathers belief in him and their brothers protecting him every single day to give him the strength he needed to make that jump to let himself believe he could get the psychology degree he craved so badly. 

It was Max who knew how scary and traumatising and harrowing it could be to be alone in this world and yet his fantastic, amazing, brilliant mind just wanted to find a way to help the kids like him. To help the kids that were lost, and scared, and alone. Anxious and overwhelmed. Max wanted to help those people. To help them find the guidance he’d been given so they did not feel so lost in the world. 

And Charles was going to fight every single person he needed to in order to get his brother there. 

He just had never anticipated doing what he was to get his brother there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was definitely a set up chapter, something to give you a feel for how this is going to go. 
> 
> It's going to be hard and painful and I'm so excited to be sharing this. It's a big boi so be prepared, and I hope you're going to love it even a smidge as much as I have. It's been an absolute delight writing this and thank you again to **myplacewillalwaysbespace** for providing me with something that I'm going to torture this world with. 
> 
> Comments, kudos and feedback are all greatly appreciated. 
> 
> Tumblr as always at 3303andmore - feel free to come and shout at me over there 😉
> 
> I'll see you in the next chapter in a couple days x


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **TRIGGER WARNINGS: Bullying**
> 
> Another not too painful chapter, but Charles is quite self-reflective in this instead. 
> 
> One thing I want to note is that as this is Charles-centric, all of his beliefs of what is going on are actually based on how he sees things. So whilst he definitely isn't great to his parents in terms of how he thinks something, that's what teenagers can be like. You don't always see things from another's perspective and so this isn't going to be very nice sometimes to Seb :/ which has been very painful to write.
> 
> I also have no idea what my upload schedule for this will be lol I'm trying to at least upload a chapter every other day depending on how fast I get the later chapters written haha
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter x

Watching Daniel fall for his brother was sweet. Max needed someone like Daniel. Someone who was fierce and social but also gentle in a loving and guiding manner. Someone that Max didn’t think _had_ to care about him but rather just did because they liked him. It was doing Max the world of good, and Charles was proud of him. He really was. 

But every time he saw Daniel waiting for them at the gate to walk in with Max, and he saw the blush run high on Max’s cheeks as Daniel would lean in and brush a kiss over Max’s cheekbone before taking his hand and guiding him into school, Charles wanted to be anywhere but there.

Looking at them reminded him of the fact that everyone seemed to think he was enough of a prick that he’d try and steal Daniel from Max. He understood that Max had misinterpreted the situation. He completely understood it. His brother had the smartest brain but he struggled with his social relationships and his anxiety, and he always assumed the worst. But to have Valtteri and their fathers immediately believe that Charles was a bad enough person that he’d do that to Max felt like a punch in the gut every single time he looked at Daniel.

Because Max looked at Daniel like he hung the sun, the moon and the stars. How could he hurt his brother like that and live with himself?

The answer was he couldn’t. He couldn’t hurt Max. 

Sure, they’d argued and called each other names and fought over the years, they’d wrestled in the driveway of their house more times than either of them could count. They’d fallen out plenty of times. But they were brothers; that was to be expected. It was normal. They’d always go from arguing to acting like nothing had happened within a few hours. If Charles had done that to Max, he’d not only lose his brother, but he’d lose his reliant. His confidant. His best friend. 

Max and Daniel had only been dating a couple weeks, and yet it still felt like Charles had lost him. Everything these days revolved around Daniel. 

Daniel texting him.

Daniel finding him at school.

Daniel walking him to the car.

Daniel _driving_ Max home. 

Daniel Daniel Daniel.

It was always fucking Daniel. 

And Charles missed his brother. He missed staying up late with him and looking at universities together and convincing Max to apply for the best university he can. 

He missed the games of FIFA. They still happened, but more often than not, Daniel was either at the house with them whilst they played or Max would be talking about Daniel. 

And Charles got it. He did. Max was young and he was in love for the first time and Daniel was his first boyfriend and it was the first time that someone liked Max back. 

But Charles just wished that sometimes he could tell Max to shut up about Daniel. He never would because he didn’t want to upset Max or make Max think that he couldn’t talk to Charles about things. Especially knowing that things would probably get more intimate between Max and Daniel one day. Max would inevitably come running to Charles and want his reassurance and guidance and for him to tell him that it was going to be okay. There was no way that Charles could risk alienating Max simply because he was jealous that his brother was succeeding in yet another way whilst Charles was still trailing behind him.

Max was already alone. He didn’t want to risk pushing him away even more. 

The only good thing to come out of this absolute mess between Daniel, Max and Charles, was that Charles noticed his brother more at school. He kept an eye on things better because he couldn’t have Max go through this again. 

And for Charles to not even notice, it still cut him up. Max had been suffering for so long, all alone. All because Charles refused to actually think about his brother more than just acknowledging that he existed. He’d fought a couple people over the years to defend Max, but that didn’t mean that he actually knew anything about Max at school. He had an intense timetable, Charles just assumed everything was fine. When he found out it definitely wasn’t fine, it was like he was the one that it had been happening to.

He couldn’t let his brother get hurt again. He couldn’t let anyone hurt his family because they were his to look after. Max and he were twins, and even though Charles was technically the baby of the family, it never seemed like it. 

Max needed so much more support than Charles did. He needed people to look out for him and help him a hell of a lot more than Charles or Valtteri did. 

It was his job to look after his big brother. 

That’s why when the new student started, Charles just stared at him for a while, trying to work out what his deal was. 

Max was slowly starting to come out of his shell when it happened for the first time. 

Charles hadn’t been able to stop it at the time, but he’d seen the way that the guy had purposefully barged his shoulder into Max and knocked his backpack off his shoulders. 

Max seemed to sigh to himself and kneel down to pick up his bag up. The guy nudged Max so that if he hadn’t slammed his hand against the wall he would’ve fallen over. Charles watched Max look up shakily at him and was just about to get up out of his chair and run out of class when the guy scoffed and walked off. 

Max picked his bag up and clumsily placed it back on his shoulders. He tucked his head down and started to head onwards to wherever he was going. 

“What happened with that guy earlier? When he knocked your bag off your shoulders?” Charles asked as they played video games that night. 

“Hm? Oh, nothing. It was nothing.” Max shrugged. When he purposefully kept his eyes on the screen, Charles knew he was lying. Max’s eyes were a window for his heart and his mind, and he knew that. He knew that if he looked at Charles all the hurt would be present and Max would have no choice but to admit it wasn’t ‘nothing’. 

“It wasn’t nothing, Max. He hit you. On purpose.”

“It’s fine, it’s nothing I haven’t dealt with before.”

“But you don’t _have_ to deal with it, Max. That’s the problem. I’m trying to help.”

“Never needed your help before.”

“Because you never told me you did!” Charles said, getting increasingly aggravated. 

“Boys? What’s wrong?” Kimi said as he walked in, and for the first time that evening, Max actually looked at Charles, his eyes pleading. 

“Nothing.” Charles reluctantly said. 

If Max wouldn’t tell him, it just meant that Charles would have to keep a closer eye on his brother this time around. 

Kimi looked at them both, catching Charles’ eye and raising an eyebrow when Max immediately looked down and away. 

Charles shrugged. Because he didn’t know. He didn’t know what was going on. 

“Is Daniel coming over tonight?” Kimi asked, ruffling Max’s hair.

“Nope,” Max said and Charles grinned. Finally, he could get a break from them. “I think he wants to FaceTime though. He’s trying to work out this biology homework so if he can’t figure it out, I’m going to help him.”

Charles’ smile dropped. Of course they’d be doing that. 

“I thought you was going to help me with that English stuff?” 

“Oh yeah… can we do that another night? It’s just Dan’s got his mocks coming up soon and he’s stressing out and he needs these grades ready for his personal statement?” Max asked, “Yours isn’t due for a while anyway, right?”

“Yeah... yeah it’s fine. Don’t worry. Hang out with your boyfriend again, it’s fine.” Charles shrugged. 

He could see Max looking at him slightly hurt and Charles dropped his controller and walked off. Charles pushed past Kimi and wandered upstairs, throwing himself onto his bed dramatically and dragged his phone out of his pocket. 

Charles turned onto his side, his back to the door, and started scrolling through his social media. 

“Are you okay?”

Charles turned onto his back and looked up. Max was stood nervously at the door.

“Yeah I’m fine.”

“I’m really sorry I forgot. We can do it tomorrow?”

“Max it’s fine just leave it.”

“What’s the homework again?”

“Max, honestly, it’s fine. I can do it, just go and help Daniel.”

Max looked as though he wanted to say something else, but sighed instead.

“I’m really sorry.”

“Max, for the love of everything that is holy, it’s fine! Just leave it.” Charles wanted to grab him and shake him. 

Max looked slightly alarmed at the raising volume in Charles’ voice, but he didn’t say anything more. Charles turned his back on Max and started scrolling again.

“Close the door on your way out.” Charles muttered. 

He listened to Max walk to his own room and pulled his blanket up over his head. The frustration was flowing fiercely through his system. 

Through their shared wall, Charles heard Max start talking. And when he heard Max laugh, he knew precisely who he was talking to. Max never laughed like he did apart from when he was talking to Daniel.

And with the few words that Charles could make out, they weren’t talking about biology homework. 

Charles wondered whether Max was going to tell Daniel about what had happened with the new boy. Maybe that’s why he wouldn’t talk to Charles. He was his own person now. He didn’t need Charles anymore. He had Daniel. It was Daniel that was teaching Max how to have his independence and be his own person, and making him feel loved and special for the way his brain worked. 

In the few weeks Max and Daniel had been together, Charles thought about the fact that he and Max barely spent any time alone anymore. Daniel was always there, even if not physically. He was always on the phone or Max was texting him or Max was telling them about what they’d been doing together at school. 

It was Daniel that Max needed these days. It wasn’t him anymore. And he didn’t know what to do about that. 

Because Max did still need him. There were things happening that Charles knew Daniel wouldn’t be able to help with. Max needed him.

Or was it that Charles needed Max?

So much of his life and his personality came from being Max’s twin brother. Now that Max was his own person, it was like nothing was the same anymore. And Charles had spent so much of his time trying to separate himself from Max. But now he was losing his brother and Charles didn’t know what to do anymore. 

Because Max didn’t want him anymore. Was it because he wasn’t there for his brother when his brother needed him most? Max had spent the last couple of years dealing with people treating him like pure shit, and also dealing with Charles spending his entire time winding Max up, pushing him around, winding him up whenever he got stressed over his work for being a brain box freak, and laughing at him whenever anything happened in the comfort of his own home, like he didn’t already get enough of that at school. 

Charles only gave Max as much grief as he did because Max would always mutter comments whenever he’d sneak Charles back into the house and help him cover up the marks that had been left after going out to yet another party and sleeping with yet another set of people. Max never told their dads, although he was pretty sure that Max had told Valtteri at some point. But it was their secret, something that they dealt with together. 

They used to do everything together, until they naturally started to drift apart. 

Well, it wasn’t natural though, that was the problem. 

It was all Charles’ fault. 

He’d pushed his brother away, refused to really acknowledge his existence at school, would barely look his way aside from rolling his eyes when he’d see Max go to the library yet again. 

Everything was different though now that Charles knew why Max was always there. 

The guilt for what had happened was insurmountable. And Charles hated himself so much for letting Max become that lonely. 

And as much as Charles hated everything that had happened, he couldn’t understand why even his dads assumed he’d do that to Max. The pain of knowing that no one trusted him enough to just ask a question, to give Charles chance to tell the truth and defend himself, it cut so deep that Charles wondered why he even bothered. 

He wasn’t Max. And he never would be Max. 

Max told their dads almost everything. Normally Charles would find out some things first, but in time their dads would come to know everything. When Max came home from school, he was straight into the kitchen with Kimi and helping make dinner, talking about anything that came into his mind. And their dads paid attention. When Sebastian came home from work, even if Charles was next to him, he’d be asking Max if he was okay and if school was fine before even acknowledging Charles’ presence. 

He knew in his heart that it wasn’t meant the way his head was telling him it was. Their dads adored all of the boys. It was just that Max was naturally closer to them than he or Valtteri were. Max would spend more time around them, happy to go and keep Sebastian company if he had to go into the office at the weekends, or he’d sit in the kitchen whilst Kimi made dinner and helped out. Charles was always in his room or playing on the playstation, and Valtteri was normally studying or at the rink, either playing or practising hockey, or skating around just for fun. 

Charles didn’t resent Max, and he didn’t resent their dads. Sometimes he just wondered what he had to do to be the one that they asked how his day had been first. Part of it was Charles’ fault, he knew that. If Sebastian asked him a question, more often than not he’d receive a one-word answer from Charles, and he barely did anything to help out. But Valtteri didn’t either. 

Only Valtteri had his hockey to bond him to their parents. And he was destined to go and get an engineering degree, with a sports scholarship, and join the military. He was smart like Max. 

Charles could draw. There wasn’t anything really special in that when you compared him to his two brainbox siblings. And there was definitely nothing special when you compared him directly to Max. The straight A grades of Max compared to Charles who was barely scraping C’s half the time. 

He still wished that they’d ask him more though. Sometimes he didn’t want to answer just because he wanted to punish them. If they didn’t care enough to properly invest themselves in his day, why should he invest himself in answering them? It was a two-way conversation. And Charles was tired of being the one that was always dumped for it. 

He wasn’t a bad person. Sure, he liked having sex and he liked the attention that he got for it all. He knew he shouldn’t be sleeping with people that were already in relationships, but he never slept with anyone that was drunk or high, and so that was kind of their own fault for being enough of a douchebag that they’re cheating on their partner when they were sober and had no excuse (even though Charles knew there was never any excuse for cheating regardless). It’s not like Charles was able to keep track of who everyone in the school was dating anyway. 

Charles sighed and shook his head. He couldn’t be thinking about that now anyway. Having expected that Max would help him figure out this coursework, Charles was now left in the difficult position that he was meant to have the draft plan in for tomorrow and he had to do it himself. And so instead of settling in bed and playing on his phone like he wanted, Charles made the decision to not be a further disappointment to his parents and got up to work at his desk. He pulled his headphones off their stand, shuffled his playlist and got to work. 

And if he turned them up even louder in order to drown out Max’s laugh, he kept that to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not gonna lie this chapter got distracted from being uploaded bc I started buying tickets to go see a musical about Henry VIII's wives so it went up later than I planned today lol
> 
> Comments, kudos and feedback are all greatly appreciated.
> 
> Tumblr as always at 3303andmore - feel free to come and shout at me over there 😉
> 
> I'll see you in the next chapter in a soon x


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **CONTENT WARNINGS: Physical violence / bullying**
> 
> So I had a power-outage for the last like 20 hours, and had to go into uni really early (8am is early, okay?!) and it's now 9pm and I've been home like an hour. But the good thing is I have now plotted the last few chapters so be ready for the angst and the happy ending. 
> 
> This is the first chapter where we actually start to go into the narrative, and it's going to feature Mick being Not A Nice Guy, but yeah. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy x

After seeing the new kid knock Max over yesterday, Charles intended on making an effort to actually find out who this kid was.

They were sat in the cafeteria when Charles saw him again. He was waiting for the others to join him and the new kid was in the queue, conveniently talking to one of Charles’ friends. When Antonio fell into the chair beside him, Charles nodded towards where New Kid had wandered off to, and asked,

“Who’s the new kid then? Saw you talking to him.”

“Names Mick. Seems alright. He was asking me whether the food is actually decent or whether it’s that shit cafeteria food that you eat but you think will kill you off.”

“What’s his deal?”

“A-Levels in German, English and Law. Dad’s a teacher, got a sister, dunno what’s going on with his mum but yeah. Just standard, why?”

“Got a girlfriend? Boyfriend? Anything else I should know about?”

“Dunno. He was asking me about Max actually.” Antonio shrugged as he shoveled pasta into his mouth. 

Charles’ ears instantly perked up and he turned on Antonio.

“What was he asking? What’s he wanting to know about Max?”

“Dunno really. He was just saying he heard something about us having a genius and I was like ‘OH YEAH, that’s my best mates twin brother’, and then he was asking what Max does and stuff. I don’t really know why to be honest. But yeah.”

“Did you tell him Max is with Daniel? Or that he goes to the library a lot?”

Antonio stared at Charles and furrowed his eyebrows.

“Should I have? Charles, you barely ever talk to him anyway, why would I talk about what Max does with his time?”

Charles let out a sigh of relief and shook his head.

“He’s been quiet lately, I don’t want anyone to bug him that’s all.”

“Max is always quiet. That’s why people call him weird.”

“He’s not weird!” Charles argued, “Just because he’s quiet doesn’t mean he’s weird. He prefers being quiet, why is that such an issue?!”

Antonio looked quite astonished at Charles’ outburst. 

“Because you’re not. How the fuck you two are twins is the next great wonder of the ancient world. You’re different people. For twins, it’s like you came from different planets.”

“He’s still my _fucking_ brother,” Charles spat incredibly defensively. “Be a bit kinder, if you could find it in your heart.”

“For someone that spent the last five years trying to pretend he didn’t exist, you’ve really changed your tune about Max.”

Charles abruptly stood up and grabbed his backpack. 

“I really can’t be bothered to fight with you over this. He’s my brother. End of discussion.” 

And with that Charles stormed out, leaving Antonio and their other friends to stare after him.

As Charles turned the corner, he heard the abrupt sound of someone being slammed into the wall. 

“So, you’re not just a brain box then. You’re sucking off the captain too, huh?” 

Charles watched for a moment as Mick pinned Max to the wall, his forearm across Max’s throat but not compressing him, more just keeping him in place. 

“Get the fuck off him!” Charles shouted, rushing forward and dragged Mick away. 

Mick was quick to drop Max and back up, holding his hands placatingly. 

“Calm down, mate, we were just talking. Weren’t we, Maxy?”

Charles pushed Mick until his back hit the wall. 

“Stay the fuck away from him.”

Mick smirked dangerously at Charles, and he could see the look in Mick’s eyes. He was going to be the worst thing to hit this school in a long time. Charles could already tell. And he wasn’t prepared to have his brother be the one that suffered because of it. 

“Whatever. Bye lads.”

Mick walked off with a swagger and Charles knew that the smirk was still present as he left. 

“What the hell did you do that for?!” Max pushed Charles, “I had it under control.”

“I was just trying to help!”

“I was dealing with it!” Max shouted.

“He had you pinned to the wall! That’s not dealing with shit, Max.”

“Don’t act like you care now,” Max muttered, rubbing his hand across his throat and bending down to grab his backpack. “Just leave it, Charles.”

Charles stared at Max as he walked off. He was only trying to look out for him and still Max was acting like Charles was the scum of the earth. He didn’t want Charles’ help, but that didn’t mean he didn’t need it. Charles knew he’d have to keep a closer eye on things, because that dangerous look in Mick’s eyes told Charles everything he needed to know about what that boy was capable of. 

Mick was nowhere to be seen for the rest of the day, and Charles didn’t know how he felt about that. It wasn’t that he wanted the new kid around so that he could harass his brother, but he liked knowing his brother was safe and he couldn’t do that if he had no idea where Mick was. 

When Charles was walking to class later, he saw that Max had pulled Daniel to join him in the library and the two were near enough sharing the same seat when Charles saw them through the window. If Charles couldn’t keep an eye on Max all the time, he had to have faith and trust that Daniel would. 

The only issue was, every time Charles closed his eyes, he saw the way that Max hadn’t even been scared when Mick was pinning him to the wall. He instead looked resigned. 

Was that what Max’s life had come to? Was he not afraid of it anymore because he was so conditioned into thinking that everyone hated him? Was Max truly not afraid of having his windpipe nearly crushed because Charles had never noticed that Max was bullied so horrifically? 

Charles didn’t want to trust Daniel, because he couldn’t trust anyone. It was his job to keep his brother safe. Max couldn’t go through that again. Charles couldn’t let Max go through that. He already couldn’t live with himself knowing that he’d already failed his brother once. He couldn't fail him twice. 

They’d be starting to think about applying to universities soon, and Charles was terrified at the idea of not having his brother within arms-reach anymore. He had to help Max grow now and learn to protect and look after himself so that when they started university, he knew Max was safe. It was a long time until Uni started, they still had another year until their A-Level exams after all, but Charles was terrified about leaving his brother in potentially a different part of the country to him. Max needed to be safe. 

And if this Mick absolutely ruined Max more than Daniel’s shitty old friends had, Charles didn’t know what he’d do.

\----

Charles had hoped that the mild threat would’ve kept Mick away from his brother. But he also should’ve known that it wasn’t that simple.

Nothing in his life was ever this simple. 

They were walking along the corridor, Max’s hand held in Daniel’s (obviously), when Charles felt Max stiffen beside him. 

Charles looked up and his jaw clenched when he saw Mick leaning against the water fountain and staring at the twins and Daniel, a dirty smirk present on his face. As the trio walked past him, Mick stood up straighter, grinning at the twins in a way that Charles thought almost feral. 

Max was trying to ignore him by focusing on Daniel instead, listening as he told Max about something related to his football training. Charles could tell that Max wasn’t entirely listening, too focused on trying to get past Mick, and Charles touched the tip of his pinkie finger against Max’s, linking them just enough. Max turned his head and smiled slightly, before letting go of Charles’ finger and drawing both of them to a halt in front of the library.

“I need to go do some work, I’ll catch up with you later,” Max said, kissing Daniel lightly and blushing fiercely, smiled at Charles and then ducked into the library. 

“Is there anything happening with him?” Daniel asked as they stood staring at Max, “He seems a bit on edge.”

Charles sighed when he realised Max hadn’t spoken to Daniel about things either. 

“I don’t know,” Charles shrugged, “I think something’s happening but I don’t really know much.”

Daniel stared at Max for a moment longer and then turned to Charles. 

“I know you don’t exactly trust me because of who I used to knock about with, but we both think that Max is the most important person in the world and if I can help him, I need you to trust that I’m doing it for Max. Put whatever hang ups you’ve got with me aside and put him first for once.”

“I always put him first!” Charles hissed, and when Daniel scoffed, Charles wanted to knock him out.

“Yeah, you put him first by pretending he doesn’t exist. What a great brother you are.” 

Charles wanted to reach up, grab Daniel’s shirt and push him into the wall, holding him in much the same position that Charles had found Mick holding Max. However, just as he reached up, he saw Max stand up and he watched him sigh at them, clearly able to tell that something was happening between his brother and his boyfriend. 

Charles had spent so long making and letting Max’s life be a misery that Charles shook his head instead of doing anything and walked off. He knew Daniel was watching as he walked off, and that meant Mick probably was too, but Charles couldn’t find it in himself to care. 

Max was his priority. Daniel may come as part of it now, but that didn’t mean that Charles had to care what Daniel thought of him. As long as Max was okay, that’s all that mattered. And if Charles had to suffer through an awkward friendship with Daniel, he’d do it for Max. 

Charles spent his day watching Max from afar. He joined him at one point to try and get his coursework done in the library, feeling entirely out of place in such a quiet and nerdy environment. Max had taken Charles’ plan off him and scribbled all over it at Charles’ request, fixing different aspects and making it a more coherent plan. 

Charles hated English. 

But with Max’s help it wasn’t _so_ bad. 

He was only doing it so he could go to the university he wanted. And if Max was willing to help him suffer through it, Charles could manage another 18 months of study. 

Another body dropped to sit beside Charles when he crossed his arms on the tabletop and was close to falling asleep. 

Charles peeked an eye open and immediately sprang up when he realised Mick was sat beside him. 

Mick never once looked at either of them. Instead he rest his head in one of his hands and started scribbling out some German work. Max was definitely getting anxious opposite them, and flicking his eyes quickly between them. 

“I have to go to class,” Max whispered to Charles, tucking his belongings back into his backpack and standing up. They both saw the smirk grow on Mick’s face at the awkward atmosphere, but Max tried to ignore it and instead he awkwardly stepped out from his chair and walked around the table. 

He tripped slightly and Charles instantly knew why. 

Mick had shifted his foot out when Max wasn’t looking just enough to trip him up. 

“Oops, sorry mate.” Mick murmured.

Max scurried away before he could say anything more and Charles turned ever so slightly to lean into Mick.

“I told you yesterday, leave him alone.”

Mick blinked slowly and grinned.

“No.”

“What’s your fucking problem with him?”

Mick grinned impossibly wider and shrugged.

“Don’t have one. You two are just really fun to fuck with.”

“Leave my brother alone.”

“Nah, I’m having fun. Thanks for the input though.”

Charles shoved his belongings into his bag and as he stood up, he swung his bag so it hit Mick on the shoulder. Mick’s pen scratched across his work with the force of Charles’ hit.

Mick turned to stare at Charles.

Charles thought he’d never been look at more dangerously. 

“You’re going to regret that.”

Charles scoffed and shrugged.

“You don’t mean shit to anyone. Leave my brother alone.” Charles replied, “He hasn’t done anything to you, he hasn’t done anything to _anyone_ ever. So drop it.”

“No,” Mick repeated, “I’ll do what I want, thanks mate.”

“I’m not your fucking mate.”

“I don’t fucking care,” Mick said, laughing slightly, “If I cared, I’d listen to you. But I don’t. So enjoy yourself, Charles, because I definitely am.”

Charles contemplated smashing Mick’s head into the table, but he knew that it would look to be an unprovoked attack, especially with Mick being the new kid. And Charles’ reputation wasn’t exactly the most glowing character reference to stop school getting angry enough to suspend him again. He’d barely survived Sebastian’s wrath the first time he’d gotten suspended for skipping class and being caught with people that were smoking (even though he hadn't even held an unlit one the entire time, Charles was still convinced it was a witch-hunt from the old principle who hated him), he wasn’t going to risk getting suspended again for punching this absolute dick. 

If his dads couldn’t trust Charles enough to even ask if he was trying to steal Daniel from Max, he doubted they would trust him enough to ask why he punched Mick before they were immediately kicking off at him instead. 

“I’ll be watching you, Charles,” Mick said ominously.

Charles didn’t know what that meant and as much as he tried to hide it, Charles felt distinctly unnerved. 

Mick wasn’t a person that Charles would ever trust, and he didn’t know how to keep Max safe from that. 

Mick was a shark, circling endlessly in the waters of their school, and Max was the bloodlust that he was chasing after. Charles didn’t know where he fit into this narrative, but he had the feeling that he was the body Mick would rip through to get to the very core and essence of what he wanted. 

The only issue is, Charles wasn’t entirely sure what it was Mick wanted. And, as such, he had no idea how to save Max from the murky pits of the darkness that Mick arose from. 

——

It took a few days before Mick did anything else. 

Max, thankfully, hadn’t had any panic attacks or mild freak-outs, however had been on edge the entire time. Charles knew that Max had suddenly started being around Daniel a lot more at school rather than only walking to the building with him. Daniel seemed to always be there, and Charles was proud when he saw Max willingly go and sit with Daniel and his friends one lunch time. Max had sunk down to sit with his back against the wall, beside Daniel, and made a joke that had Dany and Jev laugh and Daniel look at him with pride and adoration across his features. Charles spent a long time watching them.

There was a lot of nervous energy around Max. His body was rigged under Daniel’s arm and he was nervously twisting the hem of his shirt between his fingers. But he did okay. He kept his eyes down for much of it, but Charles was proud of him. Max had never had strong social skills. He was quiet, reliant on others, he didn’t have many interests outside of school, and he was always unsure how to explain things.

But seeing him sitting there with Daniel and his friends and doing absolutely fine, it made Charles wonder what it would be like in 18 months time. They’d be getting ready to start university, to be in different places for their first time in their lives. They wouldn’t be Charles and Max: The Twins anymore. 

And actually, Charles thought he was more worried about that than Max was. 

Regardless of how much Charles had tried to push himself away from Max over their years at school, Max had never treated Charles any differently to how he treated anyone else. He’d always kept his head down, would wordlessly pass things to him, would try and find his own table to work at in the library instead of joining one that Charles was on the few times he’d actually visited the library on his own accord. 

So much of Max’s life he was alone. 

And so much of Charles’ life was being the little brother to The Freak. Suddenly they’d both be starting fresh. 

Max wouldn’t be The Freak anymore. 

Charles wouldn’t be vehemently denying connection to him, because no one would know of Max’s existence if Charles didn’t tell them. 

Life without Max seemed weird. And Charles didn’t know what to think about it. 

“Oi! Charles! Either start playing or I’ll bounce this fucking ball off your head again!” Someone shouted, and Charles tore his eyes away from Max and Daniel and towards the game. 

“Sorry, sorry, just think about something.”

“Thinking about where you’re going to get your next fuck from, aye?” Someone else said, grabbing Charles into a headlock and ruffling his hair. 

Charles squirmed and tried to wiggle out, but he let them do it. Better to have them believe he’d gotten lost thinking about sex and leave it at that, than have them know that he was worrying about university and his brother.

No one thought Charles was smart enough to go to university. And they were probably right. 

But he didn’t need people treating him like shit for it, and he didn’t need people to start making comments about Max again. They were finally starting to leave him alone now that he’d gotten with Daniel and word of Charles’ outburst at Antonio a couple days prior had gone around the school. People seemed to know that something had shifted in the Räikkönen-Vettel Twins relationship, but what it was that had changed, Charles still wasn’t entirely sure. 

However, that didn’t stop everyone. 

Mick had seemed to vanish for a few days, and Max had some anxious but blissfully free of anything happening to him days. 

And then he came back with a bang. 

Daniel had football practice on Thursdays, and Valtteri was snagging a lift from one of his friends to go to play ice hockey, meaning that the twins were the only ones being picked up. Charles would normally have already scarpered to the car, stealing shotgun and forcing Max to sit in the back, all the while they’d squabble about whose turn it actually was to sit in the front. Instead, his last lesson of the day was just around the corridor from Max’s psychology class, and so decided to hang about and wait for him instead. There was a party happening tonight that Charles planned on attending, and sucking up to his brother now was definitely the key to sneaking back in successfully in the early hours of the morning.

Charles was making his way down the corridor when he heard someone shout ‘fight’ and every instinct in Charles’ body told him to run. 

Charles pushed his way through the crowds and he barely had chance to see what was happening before someone was dragging Max up, holding him whilst someone else pushed Mick into the wall. 

Charles barged people out the way and grabbed Max by the shoulders, scanning his eyes quickly over him and seeing nothing that looked severely injured. Max’s cheeks were flushed, his eyes teary, and his jaw bright red where Mick had clearly caught him, but other than that, Max looked okay. Mick, on the other hand, looked positively feral. 

“What the hell happened?!” Charles shouted, tucking Max protectively behind him.

“Nothing, Charlie-boy. Just a misunderstanding and these fine folks think that anything can be a fight. It was just an accident, right, Max?”

“Yeah, it was nothing,” Max muttered, grabbing his backpack and quickly making an exit. Charles wanted to stay, wanting to smack that smug, stupid smile off Mick’s face, but he also knew his brother needed him. 

“This ain’t over,” Charles said menacingly, before running off. 

He found Max huddled in a corner of the toilets, rubbing his hand across his chest to try and stop the shaking panic take him over. 

“Max, I’m here, it’s alright.”

“Leave it, Charles,” Max stuttered, “I don’t need you.”

“Max-”

“Fuck off!” Max cried, shoving Charles away from him.

Charles stumbled back, holding his hands up placatingly and nodding at him.

“Okay, okay, fine. But I’m going to wait for you, okay?”

Max rolled his eyes and huddled into himself a little closer. Charles watched him close his eyes and breathe deeply.

“You need to tell Dad, Max. This isn’t okay.”

Max suddenly stood up and pushed past Charles, sprinting back out of the toilets and Charles had to chase after him to ensure that Max didn’t vanish. Charles heard people laughing and hollering at the pair of them, but he had to block it out. 

Fuck

He’d failed his brother once, he couldn’t let them destroy his brother again.

He chased after Max and grabbed his wrist just before they got out of the gates. 

“I’m not your responsibility!” Max shouted, pulling his arm free of Charles’ grip. “I don’t need you, I never needed you!”

“Why can you not just accept that people are trying to help you!”

“Because I don’t need it! Just drop it, Charles, seriously. I don’t need you to save me. I can deal with it, okay?”

Charles stared after Max as he stormed his way to the car, throwing his bag at his feet as he climbed into the back of the car. Charles rolled his eyes and followed after him. No matter what he did, Max was always going to complain because he was used to having no one, but Charles couldn’t let him do that. 

Charles climbed into the passenger seat whilst Kimi was turned to look at Max sulking in the backseat, his jaw getting increasingly redder where Mick had caught him and his breathing heavy.

“Some fucker punched him and he’s in a strop because I tried to help,” Charles announced as he sat down, which had Kimi turn abruptly to stare at him. 

“What?!”

“SHUT UP CHARLES!” Max screamed, kicking his foot out so that it would knock Charles’ seat. 

“Yep. He doesn’t want to tell anyone because ‘he can deal with it’,” Charles said sarcastically.

“I’m going to fucking kill you,” Max muttered.

“Max, why have you not told anyone? Shit kid, this isn’t okay.”

“It was one punch, it’s not like anything happened!” Max argued. 

“It doesn’t matter if it was one punch or a hundred, he shouldn’t be doing anything like that at all.”

Max scoffed and rolled his eyes. Charles couldn’t believe that this attitude was coming from Max. He was the quiet one, he never got cheeky or rude to people, especially not their dads. He was the golden boy for a reason. 

Charles did notice however that Max never got told off for his attitude. His parent’s double standards never ceased to amaze Charles. 

“Isä, it’s fine, honestly. I can handle it. He didn’t even really hurt me.” Max told him, “Just, don’t tell Dad. Please? I don’t need him worrying about me anymore than normal. It’s alright, I’m dealing with it.”

“Does Daniel know?” Charles asked instead, not giving Kimi chance to respond. 

Max glared at Charles. 

“I’m talking to him about it, alright? Just leave it and stop getting involved.”

“Max, watch it,” Kimi murmured, startling Charles slightly. It was weird hearing Max get told off for something that normally only ever happened to Charles. “Charles is just trying to look out for you, okay?”

“I’m fine, Isä,” Max implored, “Can you please drop it? I promise it’s really not that big of a deal, Charles is making it seem worse than it is.”

Charles wondered if he really had. Was he just being more sensitive to it because of what Max had been through. Like Max had said before, it was just a punch, and it wasn’t like Charles actually saw what had happened. Was it an accident and the others had made it seem like a bigger deal than what it was? 

But Charles’ mind kept going back to Max in that moment. The fear and the pain in his eyes, and if it truly had been nothing, surely Max wouldn’t have sprinted away in order to stop himself having a panic attack if it had been nothing? Did Max keep telling them it was nothing because it was the only way he could keep himself safe from whatever was going on, both in his head and in his life?

The issue was, Charles had no idea how he was meant to protect Max when Max was so _fucking_ adamant that he would rather push everyone away rather than accept help. They’d always protected each other, but Charles’ stupidity and desire to pretend his brother didn’t exist had royally messed everything up. 

“Kid? You alright?” Kimi nudged him, and Charles shook himself back into the car. He hadn’t even realised that they’d arrived home, he was too busy stuck in his own head and trying to work out what to do. 

“I was thinking about Max,” Charles admitted, “Do you think it was the wrong thing to do? Stepping in, I mean?”

“I don’t think so. He needs you, Charles. You know he doesn’t know how to ask for help.”

“Should I keep helping him out?”

“He’s going to hate it, but yes,” Kimi told him, “He needs you to keep him safe. I don’t know what’s going on with this kid, but from the sounds of it, he’s not going to leave Max alone. And if you need to step in, do it.”

“What if he hates me for it?”

“Max is going to hate whatever you do. It’s Max, kid, he’s not exactly the easiest person to understand, his mind is just a whole other place.”

Charles nodded and cracked his knuckles as he thought. 

The next time he saw Mick harassing his brother, Charles knew he’d have to do something. Kimi was right in that Max was probably the most awkward/complex person that Charles had ever met, and Charles couldn’t let Mick take advantage of that. 

He, on the other hand, could most definitely be taken advantage of, especially as Charles could keep himself safer way easier. 

And if it stopped Max getting hurt, Charles would try anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS ABOUT TO START GETTING PAINFUL HAHAHAHA SAVE US ALL. 
> 
> Comments, kudos and feedback are all greatly appreciated.
> 
> Tumblr as always at 3303andmore - feel free to come and shout at me over there 😉
> 
> I'll see you in the next chapter in soon x


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **CONTENT WARNINGS: Derogatory Language, Physical Violence, Verbal Abuse,  
>  Verbal and Physical Bullying**
> 
> So. 
> 
> This is where it starts to get painful. 
> 
> I do want to emphasise that this fic is entirely Charles' perception. And it's really killing me to not share every angle of this family, but I'm trying something new here and so he's not exactly always nice to his family, but that's his current perspective. So I promise that later chapters will clarify things, but we gotta hurt before we can have the happy
> 
> Hope you enjoy (that feels very much so the wrong thing to say :/ )

“It’s funny, you’d expect being Ricciardo’s little bitch you’d know how to defend yourself. But I guess you’re too busy on your knees to know how to use your fists.”

Charles pressed his back into the wall and bounced his leg as he fought every instinct to run in and save Max, all guns blazing. But he couldn’t. 

Because Max would absolutely kill him.

Instead, he listened as Max whimpered in pain.

“What do you want from me?” Max spluttered. 

“You’re so fucking clever, use that special brain of yours, figure it out, Maxy.”

“I haven’t done anything to you.”

“You really don’t know, do you? Aw poor little Max Räikkönen-Vettel, so lost and scared because Daddy can’t save you.”

Daddy? Charles thought. What the hell did his Dad have to do with anything?

“Or do you want that little whore of a brother to come save you, huh? Or do you reckon he’s too busy trying to get off with your boyfriend again to come and give a shit. I bet that’s the only reason he pays attention to you, so he can try and figure out why the hell someone like Ricciardo would date a freak like you.”

Charles clenched his fists tight. Oh he really wanted to kill Mick right now.

“That seemed to hit you a bit hard, I bet that’s it, isn’t it? You know that you’re his little Freak. He’s only dating you because you’re fucking smart. How much does he pay you, hm? Does he let you suck his dick so you feel special and you pay him back by doing his homework for him? Because there’s no way that someone like him would ever date you. I bet he just feels sorry for you.”

Charles had heard enough. He couldn’t let it carry on, couldn’t let this _bastard_ keep spitting the hatred at Max like he was. 

But Charles knew that he couldn’t just turn the corner, that would make it obvious, would make them realise he’d heard it all. Charles coughed instead and unzipped his bag, making noise to alarm them that there was someone coming down the corridor. 

Charles walked round the corner, and smiled at Max. 

“You alright, Max?”

“Just fine,” Max whispered, averting his deer-in-the-headlights eyes to his feet and fidgeting nervously. “I’ll see you later, Charles.” 

Max quickly walked off, but not quickly enough that it would alarm people, and especially not alarm Charles. Clearly he thought that he’d gotten away with Charles not hearing the shit that Mick had spat at him. He knew that Max would be thinking that Charles had not noticed what had happened. 

Mick smirked at Max’s retreating figure but it didn’t last long before Charles jumped him, knocking Mick to the floor and holding him down. 

“What the fuck did I tell you, huh? Stay the hell away from him.” Charles said, taking hold of Mick’s shoulders and slamming them into the floor again. 

What Charles hadn’t expected, however, was the full body laugh that he received. Mick was actually entertained by this. 

He‘s a fucking psychopath, Charles thought. 

“I told you, I’m having fun, I ain’t stopping anything, Charlie-boy.”

Charles looked down at him. He wondered if this is what it was like for his Dad when he got a new client who was just absolutely fucking insane. Regardless of how far ahead of him Charles thought he was, he knew he wasn’t. 

He was still at the start whilst Mick had ran the whole marathon. 

And he wasn’t prepared for how out of his depth he felt. Charles was always the one that was at the top, and now he was being threatened for that spot, all because this fucker couldn’t keep his hands and words off hitting his brother. 

“What do I need to do to convince you that Max isn’t your little plaything?”

Mick cocked his head, twisted his mouth sideways as though he was considering something and then shrugged.

“I'll think about it, baby boy. But let me up now, be a good boy.” 

Charles considered kicking him in the balls just for good measure, but decided against it when he started to hear the stampede coming from the cafeteria. It was nearing the end of break. Charles couldn’t risk it now.

Instead he stood up, leaving Mick to stare at him from the carpeted floor. He looked amused, impressed, almost a little reflective as he looked up at Charles.

“You’re very interesting. I think this is going to be very fun,” Mick said, the words clipping dangerously as they fell from his tongue. 

“I don’t even care,” Charles told him, “Just stay the hell away from Max, okay?”

“I don’t think I need Max anymore,” Mick replied. He smiled slightly, and whilst it wasn’t as shark like, nor as outwardly dangerous as his previous grins, it was the one that made Charles feel the most unnerved.

“I’ll see you soon, Charlie.” Mick said as he pushed himself up, “We’ll have a chat about things later.”

Charles didn’t know what that meant, but he was starting to get the impression that he could’ve been given a fully planned itinerary with Mick spelling it all out explicitly what it meant, and Charles would still not know what Mick had planned. 

The boy was an enigma. Something that Charles desperately wanted to crack before he cracked Max.

——

The first punch was always the hardest. 

Charles doubled over as his fist connected with his stomach, the wind knocking out of him. But Charles couldn’t cry out. Couldn’t say ouch. Couldn’t do anything.

“You must really love your brother, my sister wouldn’t do shit for me.”

Charles pulled his arm up to protect his face as Mick pushed into the wall.

“Taking your brother’s place like the good little boy you are, your parents must be so fucking proud of you.” Mick hissed, the words sounding venomous but when Charles chanced a look up at him, he saw the excitement, the joy, the happiness. Emotions that shouldn’t ever exist when you’re battering another human being.

“You just love the attention, can’t stand your precious brother being the centre of the world can you? That’s why you get fucked so much, so that you can pretend someone likes you. Your dads must be so fucking proud of you.”

“I think they’d rather me be getting fucked all the time then beating the shit out of people for no reason,” Charles bit back.

The regret was instant.

Charles’ ears were ringing and his head was pounding as he worked his jaw, trying to knock some feeling back into it. He knew that when he looked in the mirror, there’s be a handprint stretching from his hairline to his chin. The force with which Mick had slapped him felt like it had his brain wobbling.

“You’re nothing, stop thinking you’re special. Worthless, that’s all you are.” Mick spat. Charles grinned up at him, pretending the words didn’t hurt, as he rubbed his jaw. 

“Actually I’m worth quite a lot, I’ve got plenty of money, thanks.” Charles cheeked.

Mick’s hand darted out before Charles even realised what was going on, grabbing his wrist hard but not quite hard enough that it would bruise. 

He was smart. 

Charles was actually quite frightened now.

“You want me to leave Max alone? Fine. He’s fucking boring anyway. Nothing but a stupid, sad, pathetic, little freak. But you, you’re interesting, you’re fighting back. I don’t like that, but I respect it.”

“So you’ll leave him alone?” Charles said, all the relief of Max being safe overruling any pain of his stomach being attacked. It was euphoric.

He’d done it. 

He’d kept Max safe.

He hadn’t failed him again. 

“Sure,” Mick shrugged, “But we’ll have some fun instead, won’t we, Charlie?”

Charles gulped and nodded.

“If you think so.”

“I’m pretty sure we’re going to have a lot of fun together, Charlie-boy.”

Charles hated being called Charlie. But he couldn’t let Mick know that. 

“You’ll continue to surprise me, I guess,” Charles said

Mick shoved Charles into the wall again, his skull cracking against it to the point that he was seeing stars. Charles successfully (but barely) avoided flinching when Mick ruffled his hair, but he couldn’t avoid the full body flinch when Mick trailed his finger down the side of Charles’, his nail catching just below his eye. 

“I’m really going to enjoy you, Charles.”

Mick finally dropped Charles and he only just had chance to catch himself before he would’ve dropped to the floor. His stomach was aching and it felt like his face was burning where Mick had touched him. 

“See you around, Charlie.”

Charles chanced a look upwards and smiled mockingly.

“Yeah, sure, bye Micky.”

Once Mick was round the corner and Charles was alone again, he let himself slump properly to the floor. He pressed his hands to his stomach and breathed through the pain. It hurt like crazy, and Charles hadn’t anticipated that Mick’s fists would feel like iron, but _Jesus Christ_ did his torso hurt a hell of a lot. 

“You alright Charles?”

Charles looked up and saw Daniel looking at him.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just thinking about stuff, you know how it be.”

Daniel smiled but Charles noticed that it didn’t reach his eyes like it normally did. 

“Did something happen?”

“Nah, just wanted some quiet and it’s always quiet in this corridor so I thought I’d come and chill down here for a change.”

Daniel nodded, seemingly unconvinced, but Charles knew he hadn’t done anything to indicate that he was actually in pain. He was simply sitting with his hands crossed across his stomach after all, nothing shady at all.

“I’ll leave you to do your hanging alone then, I was actually looking for Max. Have you seen him anywhere?”

“Probably in room 27. He’ll be with Alex and those lot if he’s not in the library.”

“Cheers man, I’ll see you later.”

Charles smiled and nodded.

“Are you at ours tonight?”

“Nah, got Max coming over to mine instead, sorry to keep stealing him away from you.”

“Oh..” Charles murmured, “It’s fine. Is he like.. is he staying over?”

“Dunno yet,” Daniel shrugged, “I’ll probably be bringing him home late. He’s only coming over for dinner and to meet my parents, you know how it is.”

Charles nodded. But he didn’t know how it was. He’d slept with a lot of people and been propositioned a hell of a lot, but he’d never done the whole ‘go for dinner and meet the parents thing’. The only time he’d ever witnessed it was when Daniel came over that first time after the misunderstanding with Max and he’d stayed for dinner at Max’s shy request. Valtteri was the eldest, but even he wasn’t into the dating scene. At least, not enough that he was bringing someone home to meet their dads. 

And with Sebastian being a lawyer, it wasn’t always easy to have him there at dinner time. Most of the time he was running late and dinner would be delayed a bit, which wasn’t the impression they wanted to give off if one of the boys was bringing home a date to meet them. 

It’s not like Charles would ever have someone to bring home to them anyway.

His parents only had him because they wanted Max. He was the spare part. 

Maybe _Max_ didn’t even want Charles anymore? 

No one would ever want him. 

But regardless of whether Max wanted Charles around, he still needed him. Charles had to keep Max safe. That was his job. Isä had told him he had to do whatever he could to keep his brother safe. 

And if that meant taking a punch to the gut, then he would. If he let it happen to Max, the pain would be insurmountable, both for him and for Charles. Charles could take it if it meant Max was safe. Safe from being hurt _again_. 

It was weird going home without Max. Even though the majority of his exchanges with Max lately had involved them getting angry at each other, it was still weird to sit in the car and it just be him and his dad. 

“School alright today?”

Charles’ stomach throbbed. 

“Yeah.”

“Anything happen?”

Charles shook his head. 

“Nope, just normal.”

Kimi nodded. 

“Was Max alright today? Didn’t have any problems or anything?”

And there was the focus back on Max, Charles thought. He rolled his eyes where Kimi couldn’t see and nodded. 

“Everything was fine. I saw Dan at lunch, he was looking for Max.”

“So you’ve not spoken to Max? I know he was anxious this morning.”

Charles shrugged. 

“He seemed alright. He was with Alex and that lot for most of today. I didn’t really see him.”

Kimi nodded, saying nothing more for a few minutes whilst Charles stared gloomily at the sky. 

“Your Dad is going to be home late tonight,” Kimi said, changing the subject when he realised that Charles was not invested in the previous conversation. 

“Yeah? What’s come up this time?”

“Partner’s meeting, you know how it is.”

“Well yeah,” Charles sighed, “That’s how it always is. Unless it’s something to do with Max he’s never home on time, none of us expect it, Dad, you don’t need to keep telling us when he’s going to be late.”

“Cut the attitude Charles,” Kimi said, sighing and pressing his thumb and pointer finger to the bridge of his nose. “You know he tries his best to be home on time.”

“Yeah? When was the last time Dad actually got home on time? Because I don’t fucking remember that.”

“Watch your language.”

Charles scoffed and shook his head. 

“Whatever. I have shit to do anyway.”

The rest of the drive home was filled with silence and Charles looking broodingly out of the window. 

When they pulled up, Charles slammed his car door shut behind him and stomped upstairs to his bedroom. His stomach was in violent pain and he needed to get some painkillers in him fast. The only distraction had been when he’d argued momentarily with his Dad and all the pain of what had gone on through the day transferred from his body to his heart. 

As soon as he was in his room and the door banged shut, Charles clumsily dragged his t-shirt over his head, messing up his hair further than it already was. 

“Oh shit…” Charles whispered as he looked in the mirror. 

Purple and black bruising was already forming under his ribs, and whenever Charles twisted even slightly, it ached so badly. 

Charles had been in a lot of fights over the years. Whether it be with his siblings, against people to protect his siblings, against jealous and scorn lovers of people that he’d slept with, or someone that was a shitty person just because he had two dads and was adopted, there’d been a lot of fights. Charles’ entire life had been filled with him going to school perfectly clean, and then coming home with rips in his trousers, his blazer torn, his hands busted up, his jaw bruised. Name it, Charles had had it happen to him. 

He was a catalyst for pain. 

Pain made him feel noticed. 

Charles gingerly ran his fingers over the blossoming pattern. It hurt, but it felt good. 

It was a reminder that he’d succeeded. He’d kept Max safe. No one could ever accuse him of not caring about Max any more. He had the physical evidence that he would and could do anything to keep Max happy, healthy, and safe. 

What was a couple bruises after all? They meant nothing to him. They were nothing but a reminder that he had done what he promised he would. 

The only problem was, Charles found that the bruising did actually really hurt. 

But he couldn’t think about that. He had to focus on the fact that he was keeping Max safe. 

Dinner with his parents was awkward, to say the least. Kimi had clearly mentioned to Sebastian about Charles’ outburst in the car, and without the buffer of Max or Valtteri around, Charles was left to quietly suffer as Sebastian stared at him.

“Your attitude needs to change,” Sebastian eventually said, which had Charles sigh and roll his eyes, “See, that’s the precise reason. No one can have a conversation with you because you’re always in a strop. You can’t complain that we don’t ask you about school when all you do is act like we’re not even having a conversation. Max got a boyfriend. Get over it. You’re not his priority, Charles. He’s growing up, and sometimes I wish that you’d take a leaf out of his book.”

“A leaf? Or just the entire fucking book? Because all I ever fucking hear from you is that I’m doing something wrong, I’m studying the wrong subjects, I can’t go out, I can’t have any freedom because I have too much fun. I’m sorry your lives are so boring that you won’t let me have any fun, but I’m seventeen, stop controlling my life.”

“If you acted like you was seventeen and not seven, we would let you do what you want. But you’re incapable of making smart decisions and-”

“Nah you know what, fuck this. I don’t need to sit here and listen to you lament every decision I’ve ever made. I’m sorry I’m not your golden boy, maybe you should’ve left me behind. At least then I could’ve got some parents that actually fucking love me,” Charles screamed the last bit, and he didn’t stick around to see the anger and the anguish make its way onto their faces. 

He knew he was out of line. And his parents were just trying to look out for him. 

But Charles wanted to do what he wanted with this life, he shouldn’t have to be dictated by Sebastian.

Why was his Dad allowed to pursue art and make a career out of it and it was nothing, but the second Charles tried to do that, he was making the worst decision of his life? He loved art, loved fashion, loved bringing life to the inanimate. What was so wrong about that?

Max got to do whatever the hell he wanted and his parents applauded it. Charles couldn’t count the amount of times over the years that it had been _Max’s_ achievements that were bragged about at their Dad’s work, that it had been _Max’s_ aspirations and dreams that were shared. Even Valtteri got the spotlight, when Sebastian would brag to partners about how fantastic Valtteri was on the ice, how he was going to university with a full scholarship to represent on an ice hockey team, would go on to get that famed Mechanical Engineering degree.

Charles wasn’t anything compared to them. He could draw you a pretty picture and make you a shirt that fitted the contours of your body better than any other. But that was nothing compared to the achievements of his brothers. 

Unless _they_ would see that it was worth something?

Charles hadn’t let himself dream. He hadn’t let himself hope. And he wouldn’t start now. But when he stormed into his room and slammed the door shut, he didn’t immediately throw himself on the bed and stare into space as he thought about all the ways that his parents let him down. 

That was cruel. 

Kimi tried. At least he was at home. 

Either way, Charles needed an out. He needed to find the way that they couldn’t control him, make decisions for him, decide what he was doing with his life.

And so Charles sat down at his desk, pulled his laptop open, typed in with shaky fingers the address he needed and started reading. Charles opened the notes app on his phone, the only place he could be sure nothing would get back to his parents, and started making notes of what he needed to do. 

He’d prove them wrong. 

He’d prove them all wrong. 

\----

When Max got home that night, it was pushing 11pm and it was weird to hear his brother sneaking back in when normally it was Charles sneaking in. Normally, however, Charles was sneaking back into the house at 3am, half-drunk, his clothes dishevelled and declarations of love falling from his lips as he cuddled up beside a sleepy Max. 

“Hey, you awake?” Max whispered as he pushed Charles’ door open slightly. 

“Yeah, come in,” Charles replied, spinning in his desk chair and slamming his laptop lid shut so that Max couldn’t see that he’d been on the website. 

Max had a blissful look on his face as he fell onto Charles’ bed. 

“How was it?”

“His parents are so nice. I had a mild panic attack when we left school and I was saying to Daniel that I couldn’t do it, that they wouldn’t like me, all that. I was just sure it was the wrong decision, you know? But they were so nice, and Daniel held my hand when he introduced me and his Mum got the baby pictures out.”

“At least dads can’t threaten to show Dan our baby pictures.”

Max shrugged.

“I wouldn’t even mind. Seeing him as a baby, it was like he was more than just my Daniel, do you get what I mean? Like suddenly he’s not The Daniel Ricciardo, he’s Dan. He had the most insane little curls as a kid and I just, he’s adorable Charles. I can’t get over how good he is.”

Charles grinned at Max. Even through all the pain and suffering of being Max’s little twin brother, he still found his happiness infectious and the way that he spoke about Daniel convinced Charles that he was doing the right thing by taking away his suffering. Charles got up out of his chair and dropped to lay beside him. 

“You really like him, don’t you?”

“He’s the best thing to ever happen to me, Charles,” Max readily admitted, “I know he’s my first boyfriend and I’m probably caught up in the magic of it, but he’s genuinely the best. And he makes me so happy, Charles. I’ve never felt this happy. Everything just seems to be better, you know?”

“So, school is okay? Not got any problems now?” Charles asked as noncommittally as he could.

“It’s going good, how’s your English work? Do you need any help?”

Charles shook his head and ruffled Max’s hair.

“I’ll be good for a while. I’ve got other stuff to catch up with anyway, some drawings and that, but when I do the word stuff, can you just read through it for me? Make sure it makes sense and that the spellings are fine?”

Max nodded around a yawn.

“No problem,” Max answered as he rubbed his eyes, “Can I ask you something though?”

Max looked nervous as he stared at Charles, even around all the sleepiness. 

“What’s up?”

“That Mick kid. Do you know what’s going on with him?”

Charles felt his heart drop. 

“He’s not been giving you anymore grief, has he?”

“No…” Max murmured, looking thoughtful, “That’s the thing. He kinda hated me, and now he just acts like I don’t exist, and I don’t really know what’s going on with him.”

Charles sighed and shrugged. 

“I have no idea. I don’t trust him either way, he’s a bit odd. If he’s leaving you alone, just take that as a blessing in disguise. You’ve got a lot of work to get on with, you focus on yourself and Daniel, and fixing my coursework for me, and that’s all that matters.” 

Max nodded and yawned again. 

“I’m gonna head to bed anyway, I’m really tired anyway. I’ll catch up with you in the morning, yeah?” Max said as he pushed himself up off of Charles’ bed. 

“Night kid,” Charles said. Max rolled his eyes as he walked off.

Charles dropped his head onto the pillow, letting himself fall into the endless warmth of it as he considered his next move. 

He’d done it. Max was safe. It was only the first day of it, but if Mick was already pretending Max didn’t exist, maybe he had done enough. As long as Charles could keep Mick distracted and also get all of his stuff ready for the deadline, he could do this. He could manage it and suffer through it if he just kept his eye on the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT IS GETTING PAINFUL BOIS
> 
> I AM NOT READY FOR THIS
> 
> Comments, kudos and feedback are all greatly appreciated.
> 
> Tumblr as always at 3303andmore - feel free to come and shout at me over there 😉
> 
> I'll see you in the next chapter in soon x


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **CONTENT WARNINGS: Derogatory Language, Physical Abuse, Panic Attacks**
> 
> Charlotte, in this, is a purely platonic friend to Charles, there are absolutely no plans to make them anything more than that :)
> 
> Charles is s u f f e r i n g and I wish he wasn't but this boi is going to murder me one day and I entirely blame it on the angst

Mick seemed to enjoy keeping Charles on edge. 

Every time they’d pass each other in the corridor or Mick was exiting a class as Charles was stood nearby, he’d lazily drag his eyes up Charles’ body, lingering on his torso as though he could see through his clothing and see the bruises he'd left there, before trailing them up to his face, smirking every time. 

Charles was used to people staring at his body, it happened a lot. He had his reputation for a reason. And Charles liked looking good. He liked fashion and making himself look good. 

But with the way Mick kept staring at him, Charles was regretting wearing such a garish yellow jumper that had him stand out from the crowds. 

“That new kid is obsessed with you, isn’t he?” Charlotte said during their textiles class one day.

“He’s had some issues with Max, you know how it is.”

“But you’re okay, aren’t you? I know after what happened with Max things have been a bit raw between you two, but you’re okay now, aren’t you?”

“Yeah yeah, I’m fine. Nothing wrong with me,” Charles told her, smiling reassuringly.

“How’s things being the brother of the guy that’s dating the hottest guy in school though? Max and Dan are so cute together,” Charlotte gushed instead of questioning Charles further. 

Charles grinned and blushed slightly.

“He’s happy with Dan, and it's good, he adores him. And he’s safe, so that’s what I care about anyway.”

“Are you still thinking about applying to-”

“Don’t.” Charles said, cutting Charlotte off. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You could do it, you’re-”

“Charlotte, seriously, stop.”

Charlotte held up her hands placatingly and shrugged.

“Okay fine, whatever. It’s your choice. But think about it, at least.”

Charles ignored her, curling more over his papers rubbing out what he’d done and changing it. He had to get this right. He had to be ready just in case.

When he left class, Mick was leaning against the wall opposite the door. 

“I need to borrow you, Charlie. Come with me a sec.” 

Charles trailed after Mick after saying goodbye to Charlotte. 

He didn’t see the concern in her eyes at the way Charles’ shoulders dropped slightly, nor did he see her walk off to go and find Daniel. She’d go straight to Max, but she knew that he was anxious a lot and they didn’t really know each other enough that Charlotte wasn’t convinced that Max wouldn’t immediately panic over her expressing concern for Charles. There was something off about Charles. Charlotte just didn’t know what was wrong.

“I have class, I can’t be late,” Charles said as Mick pushed him into an empty cubicle. 

“We won’t be late, pretty boy. Just thought I’d remind you what you’re missing.” 

Charles was thrown backwards into the cubicle door as Mick pressed hard on his shoulders. 

“I’ve heard rumours about you, all the shit you’ve done to Max over the years, what changed, hm? You’re the ringleader behind a hate campaign towards him, and now you’re taking it like your his little bitch. What’s that about then?”

Charles’ shoulders were being forced down with the strength that Mick was digging his fingers into his skin. It felt like his bones were being crushed under the force of it.

“I was a kid, we all make mistakes.”

“That’s not what I heard,” Mick sang, “I heard that you _love_ to call your brother a freak, that you tried to get off with his boyfriend, that all those times your brother needed you, you were too busy pretending he doesn’t exist to give a fuck about helping him.”

“You’ve got a sister, haven’t you? I’m sure you’ve done stupid things over the years. That’s part of growing up. You make stupid mistakes and you learn from them. Clearly you haven’t learnt shit if you’re still beating people up in bathrooms.”

Mick pushed Charles down the door and he only stopped when Charles couldn’t contain the gasp of pain anymore. He whimpered with the force and when Mick momentarily let go, Charles felt a reprieve of pain. 

Until it came back in full force. 

Mick leant himself against the side of the cubicle and pressed the heel of his boot into Charles’ shoulder, right underneath his collarbone and digging into the muscles. 

“Fuck!” Charles swore, placing his hands on Mick’s ankle and trying to push him away. It was like a stone was pushing against him, pushing all his weight into Charles to the point that Charles was actually marginally terrified that Mick was about to break his collarbone. 

He knew Mick wouldn’t. That would draw too many questions. And Charlotte had seen Charles leave with Mick, so someone would be a witness and that wouldn’t end well for Mick. 

“Leave my sister out of it,” Mick hissed, “I actually keep her safe. I’m a good brother, unlike you, you little whore.”

Charles bit the inside of his lip as he tried to avoid whimpering in pain. He’d seen the flash of excitement on Mick’s face when he’d swore and whimpered, and he couldn’t let him have that again. 

“Maybe that’s why you’re such a good little boy, you just want people to pay attention to you, don’t you? Don’t like it when Max was too good, did you? That’s why you tore him apart. You fucked him up. You ruined him. You made him a freak. You must be so proud of yourself, Charlie.”

“I keep him safe.”

“By taking his place like the good little boy that you are,” Mick continued, dropping his foot from his collar finally but when Mick instead dug it into Charles’ thigh, Charles found that it arguably hurt more. 

Mick leant over Charles to open the cubicle door, slamming it into the back of Charles as he pulled it open. 

“Oops sorry, should’ve got you to stand up first I guess.”

However, instead of letting Charles up, Mick simply stepped over him, his full body weight momentarily balancing on Charles’ thigh before he stepped off. 

“Come on, Charlie. Don’t want to be late for class now, do you?”

Charles dragged himself up, stretched his leg and shoulder as well as he could without Mick noticing.

His body ached as he walked to class. And when Charles got there, he had to stand at the front whilst his teacher complained at him for his tardiness again. Eventually Charles was able to sit down and he took the welcome reprieve to stretch his leg out and rub the pain away. 

It was only second period. There were so many more hours left in the day. And yet Charles already wanted to go home. 

Mick caught him again just before lunch, his fingers digging painfully into Charles’ arm, but to any passer-by it looked like they were having a perfectly civil conversation.

“You want to watch who you talk to, little one. Words can get twisted, can’t they?”

What the hell was he talking about? Charles was immensely confused. 

“Tell your little guard dog to back the hell off, or little Maxy might get another visit.”

“You promised you’d leave him alone.”

“I didn’t promise shit, Charles. But I’ve told you now. If history repeats itself, I might find that I get you and your _twin brother_ confused. Everyone says you’re not identical, but oops mistakes happen.” Mick innocently told him. 

“Leave him alone.”

“Tell Daniel to leave me alone then.”

“I haven’t spoken to Dan, what are you going on about?”

“You’re a little cherub, aren’t you? So pure, sweet, innocent. You think you can just lie your way out of anything and people will believe you. Cute. Don’t let it happen again Charles.”

And with that, Mick shoved Charles away from him and stalked off. Charles couldn’t even take in the way other people were staring at him, his mind was too busy racing through every possibility of what had happened. 

What the hell had Daniel done, and what did he know?

And how could Charles hold him off so that he could be sure it wasn’t Max getting hurt? Daniel would never forgive Charles if he let Max get hurt again. His fathers would be so angry. He was finally succeeding at something for once and he wasn’t making Max’s life 10 times harder than it needed to be. And yet it had been a few days of suffering and Daniel was already risking all of Charles’ hard work going down the drain. 

He had to get to Daniel and he had to get to him fast. 

Charles couldn’t step foot into the cafeteria, his heart was racing and it was like ice had been poured down his neck. 

What if this had all been for nothing? 

Failure.

That’s all he ever was.

Just a stupid, ridiculous, pointless, little failure. 

He’d never do anything good. He’d never succeed. Why bother? Why bother with any of it when he was never going to be known as anything other than Max Räikkönen-Vettel’s little twin brother who went out and got drunk and would sleep with anyone that gave him enough validation and told him he was pretty. Charles wasn’t fussy. Male, female, non-binary. He didn’t care. If they cared about him enough for even a ten minute quickie, Charles would let them. It was the only way he could feel valued as a person. 

Charles slammed into the toilets and leant his head against the cool tiles. 

What the hell was happening to him? And why could he not stop shaking? 

And why _couldn’t he breathe properly?_

Oh

Oh

So _this_ is what a panic attack is…

Oh this isn’t fun, Charles realised as he sunk to the floor and held his breath for as long as he could before letting it out. Charles felt the tears stream down his face as he tucked into himself. How did Max deal with this all the time? Now he understood why Max said he always felt like he was dying when they happened, and this was so mild to anything that Charles had witnessed recently, and yet he completely felt like this was the end. 

Charles sobbed through the pain of it, his breath catching a few times and nearly choking him. He had to retch into the toilet at one point, everything hurting and his stomach threatening to turn over through the pain of it all. 

The end of lunch bell went at one point, but Charles had a free period after lunch and so he continued to hide in the toilets. 

Charles pulled his phone out of his pocket, not to look at or to message anyone, but rather to spin between his fingers and distract himself with. When he did chance a look at it, none of his friends had text him to ask where he was. 

Charles was starting to understand why Max was so alone all the time. People only wanted him when it served them, and it’s not like they needed Charles right now. He’d already got them into the party of the weekend, it’s not like they needed him to tell them that anymore. 

Was Charles indispensable? Was this how Max felt?

Twins were two halves of a whole, and Charles was starting to get the impression that that was all he’d ever be. People would forget about him. He wasn’t anything special. 

He couldn’t let them forget about him. He had to prove them all wrong. They’d see him one day, plastered everywhere once he’d finally applied to-

Hold that thought.

His phone was ringing. 

“What’s up?” He answered, not bothering to greet Max in any other way.

“Where are you? I’m free right now and I can’t find you in the cafeteria and I thought we could do some work together.”

“Oh,” Charles murmured, a tentative smile coming onto his face. At least he hadn’t forgotten about him, “I’ll be right there, I’m just getting something.”

“I’ll wait for you here, it’s pretty quiet so we can work here if you want?”

“You prefer the library it’s fine.”

“We can talk properly in here.” Max replied. Charles felt nervous. Max wasn’t the kind of person that wanted to talk whilst he was working. He had a tunnel vision focus on his work and it was often times hard to drag him away from it, and if he wanted to talk, that meant it probably had something to do with whatever Daniel had been involved in talking to Mick about.

“Charles? Are you still there?”

“Yeah, yeah, sorry, was just reading something. I’ll be there in like five minutes.”

“You sound weird, are you alright?”

“Yeah don’t worry about me, Maxy, I’m fine. See you in a few.” Charles put the phone down before Max could ask any more questions and frantically chugged some water from his bottle, trying to clear his voice and hope that the panicked tone was gone. 

Before he went to find Max, he also quickly washed his face in the sink, furiously rubbing at his cheeks to wipe away any of the tears tracks that had made their home on his face. He desperately didn’t want Max to ask any questions, there was no way he could stand there and not admit what was happening if Max gave him that wide-eyed look of concern and gently nudged him. 

Charles had never been able to keep a secret from Max, and now he was keeping both the secret that could change his future and the secret of why Mick was going to leave him alone. He just had to hope that despite his brother being one of the most perceptive people he had ever met, Max was too focused on his work when Charles found him to notice anything off about him. 

His hands were still shaking as entered the cafeteria, and he sighed in relief when he saw Max sat at one of the tables, textbook and his notebook open in front of him and his laptop at the side, flicking between papers before turning to his laptop and tapping away. He knew Max had some German coursework due in soon, Charles had some similarly for French. Essays regarding future plans and what they intended to do post-sixth form, and Charles hadn’t even started it. How was he meant to write it and submit that essay when he hadn’t even told his family what he was going to do?

It was his little secret, something for him to keep and nurture and work through. He couldn’t let anyone down if he didn’t tell them what he was planning. 

And Charles had the added stress that his French teacher was also his personal tutor, and she’d be the one that would be doing Charles’ personal statement recommendation if he did decide to go to university. 

Charles dropped his bag onto the table as a way of greeting Max, and he smirked when his brother jumped and glared at him. 

“You can’t ever just say hello, like a normal fucking person, can you? Always got to be dramatic.”

“I am nothing if not dramatic, Maxy-Moo. Whatcha up to?”

“That German coursework, I need to get it done because Dad wants me to submit that Dutch work as soon as possible as well. Have you started yours yet?”

Charles shook his head.

“I don’t know what I want to do after sixth-form Max, I can’t write a 1500 word essay on ‘I have no idea what I'm going to do with the rest of my life so I’ll probably just work in McDonalds because I’m not smart enough to go to university’.”

“Yes you are!” Max protested, “You are! You could do whatever you want, Charles.”

“Yeah? Try telling Dad that. He’s still dead-set that I'm going to change my A-Levels, and no matter how much I try to tell him I won’t, he’s convinced after the mocks, I’ll swap. Or I'll just drop out because I don't like it anymore.”

“Screw whatever Dad says, you know what he’s like. He just pushes us because he loves us, Charles.”

“No, he loves you and Valtteri,” Charles argued, “You two, you’re smart. Fuck Max, you’re doing six A-Levels, and I’m struggling to even do four. You do two A-Levels _for fun_ Max, it’s not normal. Dad loves that. You’re the one he’s going to brag about. I’m not good at that stuff, and you know that.”

“Dad loves you, they love all of us. Yeah, he’s harder on you, but you don’t exactly make it easy for them, Charles. They try to help you, us, and all you do is whinge and complain and act like it’s an inconvenience. Stop pushing away the people that love you, Charles.”

“I’ll stop pushing them away, when Dad stops acting like me liking art is the worst thing in the world. He can marry Isä who literally got a doctorate in drawing a picture but I’m not allowed to be into that too? All because you and Valtteri are more academic? Nah, Max. I love you, you know that. But it’s bullshit. I’ll never be as good as you in their eyes, and it’s fine. I’m used to it. I just need to do my thing and get away from here. My future isn’t here, Max. It’s somewhere far away in a place I can be myself.”

“I don’t want you to leave,” Max whispered.

“I’ve got to leave one day, Maxy. You know that. You’ve got Kings and Oxford knocking on your door, I’ll be lucky to get anything. It’s fine, Max. I already anticipate that.”

“I want you to stay. It’s hard enough knowing that Daniel will be leaving at the end of the year, I don’t want to have to think about you leaving me too.”

“That’s the way the world works, Max. You’re going to go to uni and you’re going to have the best time and get an amazing degree because you’re smart enough for that. Wherever you end up, Daniel and us, we’ll always be a train ride away. And if you go to Kings, it’s only 20 minutes away from here on the train. You never know, Max, it might be good.”

“You know tutor is going to be about our personal statements, right? Can you please think about it? You can go to uni, Charles. You don’t have to be smart. Go and do something you love.”

“Dad won’t let me, Max.”

“Then don’t tell him! We can apply and not tell them. It’s not his decision, Charles.”

Charles smiled sadly at the hopeful look on Max’s face.

“I don’t think so, you know he finds out everything.”

“We can do this, Charles, I’ll help you do it.”

“You have your own worries Max, I’ll figure something out about my future anyway. Get on with your work, I’ve got some pretty pictures to draw.”

Charles pulled out his sketchbook and grabbed his markers, ignoring the way Max’s eyes dug into him and watched his every move. Eventually the rhythmic tapping of Max’s fingers hitting his keyboard was the only sound between them and Charles sighed. 

If only he could tell Max.

——

Dinner was less awkward than it was the previous night. Sebastian was late, as to be expected, but Charles had a party to go to anyway and so he made himself something to eat earlier after telling Kimi that he was going over to a friend’s house to hang out. 

It wasn’t technically a lie, he was going to hang out with his friends, he just wasn’t entirely sure if he knew who the person was whose house he was going to be gatecrashing. 

Charles sat eating his food on Max’s bed, listening to Max explain something that Charles really didn’t understand but he was humming and nodding in all the right places and Max seemed content enough to keep talking. Sometimes he questioned how he and Max were twins when he listened to him talk, the way his brain worked was so damn intricate and complex and Charles loved it, even if he didn’t understand it. 

There were times that he hated Max, hated listening to him talk because he was so smart that Charles was reminded how much he didn’t know about the world, and he worried about the day that he’d finally understand nothing Max said and would be left to suffer alone. But until that day came, he’d gladly listen to Max forever and learn about the world from him, embracing every second that he still got his twin until they’d have to grow up and be adults and not have each other’s back every day. 

He’d miss the days of them holed up in one of their rooms together, either doing schoolwork (which happened when Max knew that Charles had stuff to do and was procrastinating it like crazy, which again, happened a lot), watching movies or binging a TV show together, or playing on their playstations. He didn’t want to grow up. He liked being seventeen. He wasn’t an adult yet, he could still be young and dumb and make silly mistakes and no one could be surprised because he was just a teenager. 

Part of Charles agreed with Max from earlier. He didn’t want to leave either. He wanted to stay at home, with Max, with Valtteri and their dads, and just have fun. He had little in common with any of them, aside from his art with his Dad, but they were his family. His people. And Charles worried about the day that they’d be apart. 

He knew he had to grow up, but that didn’t mean he was ready to grow up. 

He didn’t think he’d ever be ready to grow up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I genuinely love writing the cute happy moments between the Chaos Twins and I miss making them happy :/ 
> 
> Comments, kudos and feedback are all greatly appreciated.
> 
> Tumblr as always at 3303andmore - feel free to come and shout at me over there 😉
> 
> Also I finally finished my report for uni so pls be proud of me whilst I cry for a while about uni and also these boys torturing my soul thank you x


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **CONTENT WARNINGS: Physical Violence, Derogatory language, Verbal abuse**
> 
> Be ready lads because there is something coming that y'all are probably gonna shout at me for allowing to happen...

“You won’t be applying to university until next year, unless you’re thinking of the conservatoires or Oxbridge, then we’ll be pushing your applications for this year. But start thinking, certain universities will also allow you to apply for your course now, so if you’re 100% committed to a course, it’s an option for you to start considering.” His tutor, Carole, told them, “I’ll be here for the rest of tutor, so you can go if you have no questions or you can stick around and ask anything now.”

Everyone started to pack up, but Charles hadn’t noticed. He was stuck in his own head, thinking about what this could mean. Valtteri was finishing up his application and Sebastian had been reading through it the last few days. This was their only chance to apply to university at this stage without going for a deferred entrance, and when you was going for the hardcore ones like Valtteri was and Max would be, they had to have perfect personal statements. 

“Charles? Is everything okay?”

Charles startled back into the room and blinked to gain his composure. Everyone else had gone whilst Charles was still tapping his pencil against the table. 

“I haven’t started my coursework yet,” He told her, “I can’t do it.”

“Your French work? Why’s that?”

“I can’t talk what I want to do after sixth-form. I’m too scared to.”

“Why’s that?” She asked, pulling out the chair beside Charles and sitting down.

“I want to go to university,” He whispered.

“That’s fine. You can write about that, I imagine that’s what most people will write about.” Carole told him reassuringly.

“No, you don’t get it. No one thinks I can go, I’m not smart enough to go.”

“Yes you are! Everyone can go to uni, Charles, it’s not a matter of being ‘smart’ enough. What is it you want to study?”

Charles didn’t say anything, he simply pulled his phone out of his pocket and opened his internet browser to the page that he seemed to spend all his time on lately. 

“You can do it,” She told him, smiling when she saw it, “Are you going to try applying now?”

“I don’t know, do you think I could?”

“Definitely. You’re so talented, Charles. And I know you get compared to Max a lot with this sort of stuff, but Charles, you can definitely study fashion, especially at this school. I’ve seen what you can do, Charles. And you’re amazing at it.”

Charles blushed under the praise and ducked his head. He wasn’t used to anyone but his textiles teacher seeing the work he created, and even then, he very begrudgingly handed it over when it was only him and her. He wasn’t good at showing off his work, even though people thought he had the most showy-off attitude there was. But you had to be a show off when you were being compared to Max, and the only way he could do it was by having the most garish personality. 

“Apply. Get your shit together, and apply. Stop telling yourself you can’t. Get your application together, and we’ll do it. And get your bloody coursework sorted! I want to read about everything you want to do, and if you want to do your coursework as your application, you can do it. We’ll apply you there if that’s what you want, Charles.”

“I want it more than anything, but my dad-”

“With all due respect, Charles, I don’t care about what your dad wants. This is you. This is your future. And you can do it.”

Charles smiled slightly and nodded. She had basically repeated everything that Max had said before, but this was different. His brother _had_ to support him and help him, his brother _had_ to tell him to do it and that things would work out. But this was a teacher, another adult, someone that believed in him because they wanted to and not because they had to. 

And it hit him differently. 

Charles pulled his sweater over his hands and wiped his eyes, pushing the tears back in before they could fall. 

Carole rubbed his back comfortingly and smiled. 

“You can do this, Charles.”

He nodded minutely and bit his lip to stop the tears hitting his desk. 

“I’ll give you some time to compose yourself, and when you’re ready you can head to your next class.”

“I’ve got a free.” Charles said croakily.

“So have I,” his teacher said, and Charles smiled when he realised what she was going to say next, “Perfect time to get that application into order!”

Charles laughed slightly and nodded. 

“I guess it is.”

His teacher went back to her desk and silently got on with some work whilst Charles started to figure out his application. 

“What else do you have to do for them?” She eventually asked after a while.

“Just apply first, if they like that, send a portfolio, and then if they like that, it’s an interview.”

“When will you tell your parents?”

“If I get in, then I’ll tell them. I can’t have my dad telling me that I’ve made the wrong decision the entire time, and when I don’t get in, he’ll be insufferable.”

“What’s your dad like with Max?”

“Max is the golden boy,” Charles shrugged, reading through something on his laptop and then deleting it and rewording it, “They adore Max. They think he’s great, they’re really proud of him, with good reason. He’s amazing.”

“Is it hard being his brother?”

“Not really, I’m used to it. Max always found social stuff hard, and so my dads kinda relied on me to help with that stuff, and then when we got to secondary school, Max just, he couldn’t do it. He can’t deal with people, they scare him, he’s not good with crowds and all that stuff, it hits his anxiety really hard. And all of a sudden, it was like, my parents just gave up with me and Valtteri, right? And it’s hard, I guess, but Valtteri, he’s chill. And Max is a good brother. He’s absolutely wild at home, completely different to when we’re here, and it’s good. And since he started dating Dan as well, like, he’s proper come out his shell. I’m proud of him.”

“You have an interesting relationship with him.”

“Always do with twins. You’ve got that direct comparison and when you’re as different as me and Max are, people don’t get it. But I think that’s good. We get along alright and I take care of him.”

“How do you do that?”

Charles stiffened when he realised what he’d said. 

“Oh you know, normal stuff. Keeping an eye on things and making sure he’s safe and happy and all that. Winding him up when he gets too big for his own boots. He’s my brother, you know? Gotta wind him up whenever I can.”

Charles looked up and saw his tutor looking at him fondly. 

“You two have a good relationship. Do you worry about Max a lot?”

“In the way that you always worry about your family. I worry about Valtteri too.”

“But Max is different. You two went through a lot together before your dads adopted you.”

“We were only little, they adopted us when just before we turned five, and so I don’t really remember a time that they weren’t our dads. And they are our dads, they always have been. Just because they took a bit longer to get us, it doesn’t change anything. Me and Max, we just had to survive by ourselves for a while.”

“Why doesn’t your dad want you to go into fashion?”

“He thinks it's not a good industry, it's unhealthy, unethical, I dunno. He just think it’s a waste. But he’s a lawyer, so he would think that. And Max is gonna be a psychologist, and Val’s going to be an engineer. Saying that your sons are those profession and then you’ve got a fashion designer, it doesn’t ring the same, does it?”

“Have you ever shown your dads your art work? Or your clothes that you’ve designed?”

“I’d rather get punched in the face than do that,” Charles grinned mockingly.

“That seems a bit extreme.”

“Isä has seen my art stuff, but I don’t show them my fashion stuff. They wouldn’t get it.”

“I think you should present in the Easter showcase.” His teacher said instead.

Charles looked up abruptly. 

“That’s six months away. It’s not until April?”

“That’s true, but I think you should present something. Charles, if you want to be in fashion, you’ve got to get used to people seeing your work. What did you get in your most recent assignment?”

Charles shrugged, but when his cheeks were firebox red, he knew that his tutor knew he knew. And when she raised an eyebrow and simply stared at him, he knew he’d been caught out.

“A*,” He mumbled embarrassedly.

“So the top grade in the class? Interesting. And you think you’re not good enough.”

“I don’t want them to see it and still not understand me though. My work, it’s me. I put everything into it and to show it to them, it leaves me vulnerable.”

“I think that’s what you need, Charles. Let people in, be vulnerable for once. We hear things, the teachers, and what I hear about you worries me. You need to stop letting people use you and let people help you instead, Charles. Max wants to help you, I want to help you. And I’m sure if you asked Daniel nicely enough, he’d model it for you. He was born to be on the stage after all.”

Charles laughed and shook his head.

“I’ll see. I don’t want him to just do it because I’m Max’s brother, you know? I need to make something special, something that brings us together…” Charles trailed off as an idea spun through his head and he quickly flicked to a blank page in his sketchbook and scribbled out an idea. Patterns and colours exploded in his brain as the design took shape, everything mixing in the most insane way and looking like an absolute mess but to Charles’ eyes, it was perfect.

The amalgamation of everything that went through his brain. It was what he needed to do. This would be it. This would be The Piece. 

“You’ve had a brainwave, haven’t you?”

“I gotta go, Carole. I need to...” Charles waved his hand furiously in the direction of his sketchbook as he shoved things into his backpack. 

“I’ll see you last period, Charles.” She laughed, shaking her head in exasperation as she watched Charles run off. 

Charles barely got down the corridor before he was slammed into a wall.

“Where you running off to pretty boy? I’ve missed you,” Mick said. 

Charles dropped his head backwards onto the wall and sighed.

“I need to go, I need to sort something out.”

Mick trailed his hands down from where they’d been pressed into the wall and grabbed Charles’ upper arms again, his fingers digging into the muscles where they had a few days prior. The weekend had been a welcome reprieve from Mick’s violence and a voice in Charles’ head was screaming that he shouldn’t be letting this happen, that he needed to tell someone, that someone needed to help him. If Charles focused hard enough, he knew it was Max’s voice, his conscious voice of reason. 

People always joked that twins could hear each others thoughts and communicate telepathically, and whilst that wasn’t strictly true, there were times that the twins didn’t even need to look at each other and they’d know what to do, or what was happening. 

However in times like this, Charles kind of wished that he could communicate with Max in such a way, simply so he could scream for help. 

The pain was explosive on his arms and it felt like Mick was squashing his muscles to the bone, leaving him vulnerable to the pain that the younger teenager was inflicting. 

For someone that looked like an angel, Mick was the work of the devil. His light blonde hair and eyes that were so blue it was as though the sky had been pulled from them made him look soft, gentle, precious. But then he opened his mouth and the sharp points of his canines would catch the light, and all the terror would come flying back. He only had to quirk the left side of his mouth up ever so slightly and his eyebrows would furrow to a point that he looked positively evil. And Charles could not understand how. Mick had such a cherub look to him that Charles didn’t get how he could be so evil. 

“You look busy, baby boy. What’s happening, huh? Share with Micky.”

“Just school work.”

“Precious, you’re adorable. It’s like you’re trying to be Max. I saw you two, the other day, sitting together like little angel boys and studying together. Well, Max was actually working, you were too busy drawing shitty pictures. Do you actually think you’re good at that? Because honestly, I’ve seen a four year old draw better than that, you couldn’t even stay in the lines.”

“I wasn’t mean to be staying in the lines, it’s abstract for a reason, dickhead.”

Charles sincerely needed to learn how to manage his mouth and his ability to not insult people that had no qualms with punching him solidly in the ribs. 

“What was that, angel? It’s almost like you called me a naughty word. And you know little boys can’t use naughty words, or they get punished, don’t they?”

Charles dared to look up at Mick and murmured, 

“I’m sorry.”

“Oh good boy! You’re learning! Now say thank you.”

“Thank you Mick,” Charles parroted. 

“Thank you for teaching me to be a good boy, Mick.” Mick told him, and smirked when Charles gritted his teeth to repeat him. 

“You’re such a quick learner, must be because there’s nothing actually useful in your stupid head. You’re just a warm body and something fun for people to have a go with, it’s not like you’ll ever amount to anything. You’re interesting, Charles, but you’re not worth anything. It’s why we get along so well. I’m everything you’ll never be.”

As much as Charles wanted to throw something back at him, he knew he couldn’t. He couldn’t take the pain of Mick hitting him in the stomach again. His stomach was still bruised from the last one and it was nearly healed, he didn’t want to risk it getting worse.

“Very good, you learnt to keep your mouth shut,” Mick said, and when he leant in to whisper into Charles’ ear, he wanted to recoil in horror at the feeling of Mick’s breath hitting the shell of his ear, “If only you learnt to keep your legs shut too, but I guess we all need validation somehow, don’t we, Charlie?”

Mick dropped Charles’ arms and Charles thankfully didn’t sway or fall down this time. He just hurt. 

Mick walked off before Charles was able to compute what had happened and even though he wanted to rub his hands over his arms to brush away the pain and the feeling of Mick touching him, he needed to go to the art rooms. He had work to do.

 _Focus on applying, then you can get away. Just 18 more months and you’re free_

Charles repeated the mantra in his head. If he kept his head away from the present and on the future instead, he could forget about Mick, forget about his father’s expectations of him and forget for just a little bit about being the brother of the school’s golden boy. 

He may not know words and numbers and chemical symbols, but he knew his fabrics and his colours, and Charles needed them. They could give him the comfort that he desperately needed. 

When he was alone with the fabric, it was like he was in a new world. It wasn’t the real one, it was a world free of expectations, where Charles could create and share and be original. One where nothing more than how you put a couple of fabrics together meant something. Charles could do that. He could do original. His teacher adored him for that reason. Charles didn’t know how to do what everyone else did, he couldn’t do conformity. The works that he created weren’t just clothes, they were art. He understood the way that fabrics worked in a way that most people understood a language. He didn’t get all that stuff, but he got the complicated way that fabrics worked and how each of them essentially had their own language. 

He may speak English, but it wasn’t the language that gave him comfort. 

It was art that was the language Charles spoke and lived in best. He felt safe with fabric and colour in his hands. His happiest days were the ones where he’d spend the entire day holed up in his room, his family out and he could play his music and paint directly onto the fabric and get it all up his arms and across his face and through his hair, and when he pulled away and sewed the fabric up, it wouldn’t look anything like he’d started. Mixing art with fashion left Charles in his happy place. 

He really wished he could bring his family there too. 

\----

“How’s revision going, Dan?” Sebastian asked at dinner that night. 

Daniel nodded around his mouthful of pasta and raised a thumb in answer whilst he quickly chewed and swallowed.

“Alright, Max has been an amazing help,” He said, looking lovingly to the side and sending Max into a violent blush, “I seriously couldn’t have figured out biology as well without him. He’s absolutely amazing.”

“Yeah we know,” Charles quipped, “We’ve had him for a long time, we know what my brother can do.”

“Oi, watch it,” Kimi warned.

“I know,” Daniel said, rolling his eyes, “But he’s my boyfriend, and I like to talk about how amazing he is. So stop being a dramatic little sod and get over it.”

“I’ll get over it when you inevitably leave and it’s me that has to pick up the pieces. He was _my brother_ before you got your head out of your arse and noticed him.”

“He always noticed me,” Max murmured, his eyes down at the table and his breath shaky as he took intense breaths, “I just never told you.”

Charles watched as Daniel reached under the table, probably taking Max’s hand in his own and holding it comfortingly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You was too busy trying to sleep with him to notice that he didn’t want you.” Max said, and even Daniel’s quietly whispered ‘don’t’ didn’t stop him, “You think everyone wants you and it must be such a revolting concept to you that for once someone cares more about me than you, that you’re convinced he’s going to leave me, because you know that everyone leaves you. Well grow up, Charles. I’m not you. I’m not completely unlovable.”

Charles stared at Max. His fathers were both sitting there with dropped jaws and Valtteri was frowning at them both. Charles didn’t even look at Daniel. Instead he laughed sadly and nodded slowly.

“Cool, thanks for that Max. You really know how to make a person feel good, you fucking freak.”

Charles stood up abruptly, letting his chair fall to the floor behind him as he walked off. 

Everything hurt so much more than when Mick had tormented him. Charles dropped down into his room and sunk to the floor, the only place where he wouldn’t be able to see the pictures of him and Max all around.

What he hadn’t told Max was that he was preparing his portfolio, and so many of the pictures were things that he’d made his brother. His face was everywhere, and all the smiling and loving yet embarrassed smiles hurt so much to see when all he could hear was Max saying Charles was unlovable. 

He didn’t mean to be. He just didn’t know how to let anyone in. 

“Charles?” A knock came to his door and he furiously rubbed his eyes and stood up.

“One sec,” He answered, shuffling the papers and pictures into a pile and hiding them under his pillow. He didn’t want to answer questions right now.

He opened his door and Sebastian was stood there. Great. Just what he needed. 

“Hi Dad.”

“That was out of order,” he said and Charles immediately wanted to give up. 

He only calls Max a freak and he’s the one that’s getting a bollocking, whereas Max spits all that at him and Charles doubted he got more than a ‘don’t do that again’ comment. 

“What Max said, it’s unacceptable, Charles. We are so angry at him and it was completely out of order.”

Oh. 

Oh, this is a plot twist Charles wasn’t expecting. They were on his side.

“Yes, you shouldn’t have called him a freak or said that Daniel was going to leave him, but that’s you and him. You do that to him a lot. But Max was, it was like he was a different person. I’m so sorry he said that to you, Charles. We’ve sent Daniel home, and Max and you are going to come into the front room and we’re going to sit down and talk.”

“I really don’t want to talk to him right now, Dad.”

“You guys need to sort things.”

“Dad, he really hurt me, I don’t want to sort things out right now. At the minute, I want to punch him in the face until he can’t see anymore, that’s what I want. And if I have to sit there and play happy families and listen to him give his fucking sob story, I will lose my shit and I’m not being held responsible for that. Because it will be me that gets the blame again and he’s the one being a fucking shitbag.”

“Please stop swearing.”

“No! That’s really not the problem at hand here, Dad! I don’t care. Just tell Max to leave me the hell alone. I’ll talk to him in a couple days, because I’m really angry and I’m really upset, right now, Dad. And I don’t want to be around him.”

Sebastian dragged his hand through his hair and nodded.

“Okay. In a couple days, you and him are going to sit down and we’re going to talk about this. Both of you and me and your Dad. It’s not okay what he did, Charlie.”

Charles sighed and nodded in acquiescence. 

“Fine, can you leave me alone now, please? I want to wallow in self-pity like the angsty teenager I’m meant to be.”

“We’ll be downstairs if you want to come talk.” Sebastian told him, ruffling Charles hair like he was a little boy again.

“I know, I just really want to be alone for a bit.” Charles quietly told him. Part of him wanted to clutch onto his dad and never let go. Max always said he felt safe in their parent’s arms, and Charles wanted to see what that felt like. But his dad had ruffled his hair, so he probably didn’t want to hug Charles. 

Charles hadn’t been an affectionate child. He didn’t really like hugs, they felt constricting, and he would only ever hold onto Max’s hand when they went out, and as he’d grown up, his Dads clearly still believed Charles preferred to not be hugged or kissed on the forehead like Max got. 

Or maybe it was because Max was right and Charles was unlovable. Maybe that’s why they weren’t affectionate with him. He was just the spare part, after all. He wasn’t what they wanted. He wasn’t Max. 

Maybe if he was more like Max he would be lovable. 

Charles slumped down to sit on the floor again, leaning against the foot of his bed and pulling his knee up to rest against his chest. He draped his arm over his knee and stared at himself in the mirror. 

Everything seemed to scream at him that that was all he’d ever be. 

The pretty boy.

Charles pulled his black hoodie off and shuffled closer to the mirror, taking a deep breath before he took the next step. 

“Holy shit…” He whispered. 

Everything ached as he pulled his shirt off, twisting slightly in the mirror and seeing the deep, dark bruising adorning his shoulders and arms. He hadn’t realised that the force with which Mick had gripped him had decorated his skin the way it was. 

And no matter how much Max had hurt him this evening, seeing the red decoration on his skin and knowing it wasn’t on Max was the only thing keeping Charles going. Max may have hurt him, but Charles could keep living with himself. He’d kept Max safe. Even if Max wasn’t going to keep him safe, it didn’t matter. Charles could cry and sob and work through the pain of his brother hurting him if it just meant that Max could be normal for once. Max could have the existence he’d always wanted, and if that meant letting out all his pain onto Charles, well. 

What’s some additional verbal bruising when physical bruising was his new trademark?

\----

The few days that Charles refused to talk to Max were painful. Mick had caught him a couple time but Charles felt numb to the pain of it. No matter how hard Mick punched him or pulled his hair or shoved him around like the ragdoll he now felt he was, he couldn’t find it in him to care. Every night he’d go home and take a photo of the bruises so he could monitor them, make sure that nothing was aching more than it should, and nothing was bleeding under his skin. 

But through it all, Charles withdrew into himself. He tried to act as normal as possible, but he couldn’t smile and laugh like he used to when all he could see was the blank expression on Max’s face, how he hadn’t even flinched or hesitated to hurt him. 

Why was Charles such an easy target? What had he done wrong that people couldn’t let him be happy?

This was his karma. He’d broken up too many relationships. Now people were breaking him up. Breaking him into a thousand pieces and destroying him to a shell of a human being. 

Charles was quietly working in his room, typing up his French coursework when his door was gently opened. 

“Can we talk?”

“Are you done being a dickhead?”

“I’m really sorry.”

“I really don’t care right now, Max. I’m trying to work.” Charles never turned in his chair, keeping his eyes fixed on his laptop as he typed the translation. 

_J'ai deux frères, qui sont plus âgés que moi_

“Please, Charlie.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Please, Charles,” Max corrected, “I really want to talk to you.”

“I really don’t want to. I’m working, Max.”

“It’ll take five minutes, Charles.”

“Oh nice to know you’ve got a timer on how long your apology will last, Maxy.” Charles rolled his eyes but pushed himself away from his desk, “Fine, whatever. Let’s go sort this out. I have shit to do.”

Charles pushed past Max and stalked downstairs, throwing himself dramatically onto the sofa and dropping his face into his hand. Max trailed down much slower behind him, sitting cautiously opposite him.

“Maxy wants to apologise, but it’s okay, because it’ll only take five minutes.”

“Can you just stop, seriously, for once? I didn’t mean it like that,” Max said as his Dads looked at each other.

“Don’t say that then,” Charles shrugged, “If it’s that important you could’ve come up with something else.”

“You are important! You’re just impossible to talk to sometimes.”

Charles scoffed but waited for Max to elaborate.

“See that’s what I mean. You act like anything is an inconvenience. I’m sorry I said what I did, and I said it because I knew it would hurt you, and I wanted to hurt you. You’re the only person I can hurt and it’s not the same. We hurt each other all the time. It’s normal for us. But I crossed a line, I know that. And I’m sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t always cut it, Max.”

“I didn’t mean what I said, whether you choose to accept my apology or not, I tried. I just, I got caught up in it, and my head keeps screaming at me that Daniel’s going to leave me one day and I’ll go back to being alone. And I’m terrified, Charles. Everything changes this year, and I’m not ready for that. You being a prick, it’s the one thing I can rely on to stay constant. And I ruined that by hurting you. And I’m so sorry. You’re not unlovable, you’re my brother and I care so much about you.”

“There’s a difference between saying something to hurt someone, and knowing that you actively want to cause them pain, and me saying that I’m worried about Daniel leaving you, what you did, it just, it seems like a massive overreaction. And I know you’ve got anxiety so don’t just spin that, I know your anxiety fucks with you, but you didn’t need to hurt me _that_ badly.”

“I know, I know. I wanted to feel something in that moment and all I could feel what hurt for what I did. There was nothing there, I just regretted hurting you instantly instead.”

“Things won’t be easy between us, Max. I’m still angry at you.”

“I understand that.” Max said, rubbing his hands over his eyes and through his hair.

“But I understand, and I accept your apology. I just, we can’t be normal for a while. I don’t want to be at the minute, I’ve got a lot of stuff to get done before Christmas and I don’t need the added stress of trying to play happy families with you. You can still come to me and talk to me if you need me, but I don’t want to hang out with you, or play FIFA or anything. I need to focus on me for a bit, even just a few days, and not on us.”

“That’s fine,” Max smiled slightly, “I am really sorry for what I said, honestly. And I promise I won’t say it again. You are lovable, ‘cause I love you.”

“You have to love me, you’re my brother.”

“You’re the one that told me a title doesn’t mean anything. I love you because you genuinely mean a lot to me, and I want you to do well in life, Charles.”

“Alright, you soppy little prick, enough of that, things are fine between us, you don’t need to keep apologising and being all loving, it’s weird. Drop it now, okay?”

Max nodded and stood up when Charles did.

“Come here, you idiot,” Charles said, holding his arms out and barely keeping his balance when Max slammed into him. Max was pressing himself tightly against Charles and it hurt when Max pressed his arms into his bruises, but Charles buried his face into Max’s shoulder instead to hide the wince. 

He couldn’t alarm his parents now, not when he’d fixed everything with Max and managed to convince them he was back to normal. 

“Right, I've got to go finish this coursework,” Charles said, pulling away from Max and ruffling his hair playfully. 

Max nodded.

“Shout if you need any help.”

“I won’t, it’s French, you don’t know shit about French.” Charles playfully told him. Max pushed him slightly and Charles had to laugh to stop himself from grunting in pain. 

Of course Max had to catch him on his bruises. 

Charles walked back off to his bedroom, and it was only when he was in the comfort of his own sanctity that Charles let himself screw his face up in pain and press him fingers to the throbbing drumming happening against his ribs. He knew his ribs were fine, they weren’t broken, just painful. He knew what broken ribs looked like after all, Valtteri played hockey, they’d seen a lot of broken bones over the years. But that didn’t mean that the weight of Mick’s fists didn’t cause the most intense pain and Charles really was starting to understand why Valtteri always said that it was damaged ribs that hurt the most. Every breath he took, every shift of his shirt against his skin, and every time that he even moved slightly, it felt like a fire was burning under his skin. 

Could he really cope with this? 

He had to. He didn’t have a choice. He had to keep Max safe and there was no way anyone would believe him anyway. 

Mick was becoming well-loved across school, and no one was going to trust serial-relationship-wrecker Charles when they had the angel himself to trust. 

Charles didn’t care. Let his reputation run wild with rumour and disbelief. As long as everyone still focused on him and left Max alone, that was all he could ask for. 

Give him the centre stage and let him be the one that abuse was directed at. He was strong. He could deal with it. 

At least, he thought he could. The more his ribs protested under the pain of it had Charles doubt himself. But he couldn’t doubt himself. He had to believe it would be okay. He couldn’t let anyone in, he only had himself. If he didn’t believe in himself, well, the whole thing was fucked then, wasn’t it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so excited for Charles to explore his future and also for Mick to stop existing but alas the pain must continue :(
> 
> it's also very painful to write about Charles' perception of how his parents treat him and his brother and I hate it but I can also not stop hurting him
> 
> AND IT WAS VERY PAINFUL WRITING THAT INTERACTION WITH MAX AND IT'S ONLY GOING TO GET WORSE FROM HERE
> 
> #justice4carole
> 
> Comments, kudos and feedback are all greatly appreciated.
> 
> Tumblr as always at 3303andmore - feel free to come and shout at me over there 😉


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **CONTENT WARNINGS: Physical Violence, Derogatory Language**
> 
> Hope you enjoy this dudes :)

It seemed like a never-ending cycle. 

Every day Charles would get up, search through his wardrobe for clothes that hid his arms and could hopefully provide a bit of a cushion in case Mick came for him again, go to school and spend the entire day worrying about when the next time would be that he’d be dragged into an empty classroom or corridor or toilets and have fists collide with his body or fingers tear him apart. And then he’d come home, silently work in his bedroom for a few hours on his homework before being dragged downstairs for a family dinner. 

The only thing Charles seemed to contribute to the conversation was the occasional scrape of his fork against the plate or a quiet request for someone to pass something to him.

“Are you alright, Charles? You’re a bit quiet.”

“I’m fine,” he shrugged, even though his shoulder protested in pain, “I just have a lot of work to do. Trying to get my grades up, you know how it is.”

“Good to hear, kiddo,” Sebastian said, which had Charles smile. He may only be receiving praise because he was finally doing what his dad had always wanted, but at least someone paid him some attention.

“Once you get your grades up, you can start thinking about what you want to do at university. There’s some great jobs out there in translation these days.”

“I don’t want to go and study French, Dad, we’ve talk about this.”

“I’m aware, Charles. But you have all these childish dreams, it’s time to grow up. Think about what you want to do with yourself. You don’t want to end up with £27k in student loan debt on a degree that’s meaningless.”

“It’s not meaningless,” Charles defended quietly, pushing the food around on his plate. “I’d be happy.”

“You’d be wasting your time. You don’t need a degree to stick some fabric together Charles. You may as well drop out of sixth form if that’s all you plan on doing with your life.”

“I’m going to art school.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Dad did.”

“Your dad got a PhD, Charles. You’re learning how to sew a button on. Bit of a difference.”

“I could get a PhD,” Charles pointed out. He barely had chance to look up, but when he did, Charles wished he never had.

Sebastian rolled his eyes at Charles’ statement and fleetingly looked over at Max instead. 

Max. The one person he thought he could trust but who was instead silently slumped in his chair beside Charles and doing nothing to defend him.

Max who was the one of them that would actually get a PhD. Charles couldn’t even manage his A-Levels without having Max reread and alter everything that he wrote to make it make sense. There was no way he’d be smart enough to get a PhD. He’d be lucky if he even got a university place.

It still hurt when he saw his dad blatantly dismiss it though. 

“You’re not applying to art school, Charles.”

That’s what you think, Charles thought, fighting to keep the smirk off his face at the knowledge that he was. He was going to apply to art school because his application was already half way there. 

“Seb, leave it. He can do what he wants.” Kimi said, to which Charles threw him a grateful smile.

“He’s throwing his life away.”

“Then let him.” Kimi shrugged. “He’s seventeen, he’s got to grow up some day.”

“He’s not applying to go to an art school, it’s a waste.”

“I went to art school,” Kimi shrugged, “We wouldn’t have _met_ if I hadn’t. Let him do what he wants.”

“But you had the talent, Kimi.”

Charles dropped his fork and onto the table.

“Thanks, Dad.” He muttered, walking off before anyone could say anything more. 

Why did he have to always prove them wrong? Why could his Dad not just accept that Charles could do this? He was talented enough. 

Right?

“Kid, ignore your dad.” Kimi said, not bothering to knock before walking into Charles’ room, “He worries about you and he knows how hard the art world is. He doesn’t want you to get hurt.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Charles shrugged, “He’s made his opinion pretty clear and I know I’m not Max but like, just leave me alone. I know what I’m doing.”

“He doesn’t want you to get your hopes up and have them shattered if you don’t get in.”

“I’ll never be able to find out anyway if he has his way.” 

Charles turned his back on Kimi and sat at his desk, pulling some work out and getting started on it.

“We don’t expect you to be Max, Charles. I told you, you’re different people, you wouldn’t do good to be the same.”

“I don’t care, Dad. I just want to get on with my life.”

Charles dropped his head into his hand and started reading through his notes, correcting some things he’d been caught out on for spelling wrong and grabbing a fresh sheet to rewrite it up now he was happy with the way it was.

“You know we love you, don’t you?”

Charles hummed noncommittally and carried on staring at his work. If he seemed as though he was busy, maybe they’d leave him alone. 

“Don’t work yourself too hard, you have the talent, Charles,” Kimi said, leaning over Charles and pulling his head backwards so Charles was forced to look up at him. “You can do whatever you want.”

Charles smiled slightly and closed his eyes for a moment when Kimi leant down to brush a kiss over his hairline. 

“You’re fantastic. And you’re not Max. Stop worrying about that.” Kimi told him, and Charles leant back further to push himself into his Dad’s stomach.

“I know.”

“Good lad.” Kimi ruffled his hair and smirked at the indignant squawk he got back as Charles desperately tried to fix it. 

Kimi left him to his work and Charles suddenly felt very alone. He could hear Max downstairs, laughing brightly at something or other and Valtteri’s deep voice echoing back. 

It was as though every time Charles heard Max’s laugh, the pain of the bruises on his arms and shoulders would throb in response. A constant reminder of what he was doing. Everything that he’d given up in order to save Max. Did Max even need Charles to save him? He had Daniel now, after all. Daniel who was funny, and loving, and adored Max and all his quirks with his entire heart, who would be over for family dinners all the time and chat with their parents like they were his own. 

Charles wanted Daniel.

Well, not actual _Daniel_ , but a version of Daniel for his own. 

Since the bruises had become commonplace across his body, Charles didn’t party anymore. He didn’t want to lose his inhibition and fall into bed with someone that would ask questions, or who would mention something to someone and before you knew it the entire school would hear about his bruises and Max, Daniel or Mick would be onto him. And if Max found out, it was inevitable that their dads would find out. 

And if Valtteri found out…

Charles didn’t even want to think about that.

Mick would be dead at Valtteri’s hands before he could even blink. And Charles couldn’t risk that. Valtteri had university lined up in a few months, a degree that he was actually excited about. Charles couldn’t risk something happening to Valtteri that would see him lose any of that. Not his scholarships, his place on the ice hockey teams, his ability to actually just _go_ to university. 

Charles was protective of Max, everyone knew that. But there was something different about Valtteri’s interactions with the Twins. Despite there only actually being a couple of months in age between Valtteri and the Twins, the separate year groups in school and Valtteri’s general demeanour made him seem so much older. He was the Twin’s protector. 

Did that mean Charles should talk to Valtteri about what was happening?

No of course he couldn’t, Charles realised. He’d literally just been thinking about how he couldn’t risk Valtteri hearing about what Mick was doing to him. He couldn’t _talk_ to Valtteri, that was the stupidest thing he could possibly do.

But anyway, Charles had gotten off track. 

He wanted his own Daniel. Charles was tired of being used solely for sex. When he saw Daniel with Max at their house, in a place where Max was at his most relaxed, he wanted it all. Charles always thought that he didn’t do relationships, but the more he protected Max and let his brother have the freedom to embrace his first ever relationship, the more Charles realised that actually, maybe relationships weren’t the worst idea. 

He’d have to hold off until he left sixth-form though. There was no way that he would be able to find someone at school to date him. He was sure that he’d broken up half of the sixth-forms relationships, whilst the other half were convinced Charles had a range of sexually transmitted diseases, regardless of how meticulous he was with sex. Of course, Charles wasn’t always smart with who he was sleeping with, but he was, at the very least, smart with the way he had sex. Condoms, consent and soberness. If you could tick those three boxes, Charles was down for it. 

And Charles had been reluctantly dragged by a sexual health clinic by Max enough times that he knew he was completely clean. 

Was Charles wrong for wanting more than that? Mick hurt him, and Max was probably onto something when he called Charles unlovable, and he wasn’t exactly the most enticing person in the world. There wasn’t much to Charles as a person. He lived way too much in the future and focused on other people rather than himself, and it wasn’t like he really had any interests aside from the PlayStation and drawing. 

The more Charles thought about it, the more he started to think he didn’t deserve relationships and happiness. 

He wasn’t a good person. He didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve anything. 

Tears hit Charles’ paper and sent the ink blurry across the paper. 

Charles pressed his hands to his face and let out the shaky breaths as quietly as he could. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he bit his lip and ripped at the skin, copper hitting his tongue and if Charles wasn’t so used to the taste of blood, he’d want to throw up. 

He hated feeling alone. He wasn’t meant to be alone. He was a twin for a reason. 

And yet as he sat there, sobbing alone at his desk in his bedroom, with his brothers and dads downstairs, laughing and joking like everything was fine, he knew that there was no one that cared for him. Charles was always going to be alone. He couldn’t have people. He pushed everyone away that wanted to care about him and it was all his fault. 

The tears kept hitting his paper and Charles couldn’t stop them. He couldn’t stop being alone. 

\------

Charles pulled his hoodie sleeves down over his hands as he stumbled downstairs in the morning. It felt as though a drum was banging against his head with the force of his headache. He’d spent a long time crying last night and ended up working until the early hours of the morning in order to get the work done that he needed to, and also scared to go to sleep because he knew that the second he climbed between the frozen sheets, he’d be reminded of his loneliness. And now Charles was having to go to school with only about an hour of sleep under his belt, eyebags so heavy Charles could barely look at anything with any sense of cohesion. 

His buried his head in his hood as he wrapped it around his ears, quietly dropping his backpack onto the counter so he could slide his lunch into it. 

“Morning Charles.” Kimi said. 

Charles was too busy yawning for the millionth time that morning to verbally reply, and had to slam his hand over his mouth to cover the yawn as he waved a hello at his isä instead. 

“You alright? You don’t look well.”

“Just tired.” Charles answered around the yawn.

Charles smiled sleepily and dropped to sit at the island counter, resting his head on his backpack and briefly closing his eyes for a moments reprieve before he had to go to school. 

He felt someone push their hand under his hood and run their fingers through his hair and Charles smiled. The smallest and purest forms of comfort were always the best. 

“Last week of school before Christmas Holidays, so please don’t get in trouble. You can manage a week without getting into a fight, can’t you Charles?” 

The hand in his hair stilled and pulled away, and when he heard the sigh he knew that Kimi was staring at Sebastian in contempt for his comment. 

Charles was too tired to bother telling Sebastian he hadn’t been in a fight for more than a month. Neither a verbal nor a physical fight. He was spending his time working silently whenever he was at school and not being collared by Mick, and he hadn’t been to a party in a long time. There was no one to fight if he wasn’t breaking up people’s relationships. 

And when you were so numb that you weren’t even getting in an argument because someone cut you up in the lunch queue, there was no reason to even bother to open your mouth anymore. 

Max was happy and safe, people were leaving him alone now they could tell that their beloved football team captain was absolutely enamoured with him, and that meant that Charles was keeping his hands to himself. Daniel made Max smile, and Charles was keeping Max safe. That’s all that mattered. 

“Hmm,” Charles answered instead, standing up and pulling his bag with him as he stalked off. He vaguely heard his parents talking behind him and slowed down momentarily to hear what they were saying. 

“He’s been quiet lately; do you think there’s something wrong?”

“Maybe he’s growing up and learning to reign in his attitude. Or he’s being a typical teenager and going through a phase because we’ve told him off a bit more than usual lately.”

“I don’t think so, Seb. I think there’s something wrong.”

“He’d talk to us if there was something wrong. At the very least he’d tell Max.”

“Not if it’s big, you know he doesn’t like to worry Max.”

“He’s probably in a strop because we told him he can’t apply to art school. He’s a teenager, Kimi. It’ll blow over in a couple days, you know what he’s like. He’s a moody little kid at the best of times.”

Charles pulled his backpack up to his chest and hugged it tight. 

He was used to hearing people talk about him. He’d heard some wild rumours about himself over the years. But to hear his Dad dismiss his attitude so briefly as though it was nothing was a different kind of pain. If this was Max or Valtteri, his Dad would instantly be asking what was wrong, holding the boys tight around the shoulders until they admitted what was wrong. He’d seen it with Max not too long ago, when Max had become convinced that Charles had stolen Daniel right from under his nose, and Max’s panicked stupor had ended with his Dads holding him tight as he cried and tucking him in at night. They’d always cared about Max and his wellbeing. And yet with Charles, Sebastian had completely brushed everything away. 

All it did, however, was convince Charles that he had to keep this to himself. His dads didn’t get him, Sebastian especially. He was too different from the rest of them. Valtteri and Max, they made sense. They were normal. Charles didn’t make sense. He wasn’t anything like his brothers, or his dads. 

He was like Sebastian in that he was argumentative, strong-willed and determined, and when he was growing up, everyone had loved that. He’d been a miniature Sebastian when he was little. He loved going to the office and when Sebastian would place the gown over his shoulders, Charles would strut around the office with a tiny pout on his lips and his arms crossed, trying to act stern as he dished out punishments to his Daddy’s co-workers, not fully understanding that his dad only argued with the naughty people, he didn’t send them to prison. 

But then he grew up. And he wasn’t cute and small anymore. He was a moody teenager who only cared about himself and didn’t want to hang out with his family anymore. But he kept up with the attitude of being argumentative. 

And he had to be determined if he could possibly get this fucking personal statement done and applied to the university of his dreams. 

He was now left waiting for his tutor to let him know if it was alright or not and then he’d apply. 

And Charles begged that it would be okay. He needed to have something good to look forward to, something that could tell him he was good enough and could get out of this hellhole that he was stuck in. 

“C’mon, pieni, time to go,” Kimi said, nudging Charles forward. Charles barely kept in a wince as his ribs protested violently.

If he could get through this last week, he’d have two blissful weeks in which his only commitments would be revising for his mock exams after Christmas and probably drinking too much when they went to visit family in Germany and Finland over Christmas and the New Year. And inevitably have to listen to Max talk to Daniel late into the night in their shared bedroom at their respective grandparents’ houses, the pair of them finally being separated for a prolonged period of time and Charles knew that Max would be insufferable. 

Yet Charles would take a week of Max being insufferable if it meant his body got a chance to stop hurting so badly. It seemed like every single day that he woke up, his body had transformed into a new canvas as his bruises vividly dipped between his bones and muscles, the substantial purple bruising flowering across his skin to the point that Charles was starting to forget what his skin looked like without it. 

He always said that _he_ was art, that he embodied it in every way that he could. 

He’d never anticipated that the ugly purple/green blotches that decorated him would be the art he presented to the world. 

He’d always anticipated it being the clothes he made, the designs he created, a drawing he’d done that when he turned 18 he could use to convince his Isä to permanently etch his talent onto his skin. 

Having his Isä be the one to tattoo his design onto him with Max sat beside him to hold his hand in comfort (covering his eyes so that he didn’t have to see the needle though) was the one thing that Charles wanted more than anything in the world. Rarely had he ever seen his dad tattoo someone, not really allowed in the shop to see it when he was younger and yet now he was old enough, he was always in school when his Dad had his appointments and rarely saw the process, only ever the end result via a picture that he would show them afterwards. 

Some people may have thought Kimi going to get a PhD in Fine Art to then become a tattoo artist was a bit of a dumb idea, and when they put him with Sebastian, university sweethearts, the lawyer and the artist, the nerd and the bad-boy, it didn’t make sense. But Charles loved it. His favourite bedtime story growing up had been when he’d make Kimi tell them the story of how he met Sebastian, and he’d look across at Max on the other side of their shared bedroom and grin happily. 

They’d wanted a love like their parents had when they grew up, and Charles was pretty sure that Max had found it in Daniel. 

Charles was still waiting for that. 

When Kimi pulled up outside school, Max quickly leant forward and kissed Kimi’s cheek and then was flying out of the car, jumping into Daniel’s arms and kissing him like they hadn’t been together the day before. 

Charles went to climb out next, but Kimi’s hand grabbing onto his arm stopped him. 

“See you tonight, Dad,” Valtteri said, leaning forward and patting Kimi on the shoulder before climbing out. 

“Dad?” Charles asked when Kimi kept looking over Charles’ shoulder, staring at Max and Daniel with their arms curled around each other and lost in their own world. 

“Are you okay?” Kimi eventually said, “You’ve been quiet lately.”

“I’m fine.” He shrugged. 

“If you want to do art, I will support you, and your Dad will. He just, he doesn’t understand. But you can do whatever you want.”

“I know.”

“Talk to us, or at the very least, talk to your brothers. They care about you.”

Charles smiled and nodded, but he knew that the smile didn’t reach his eyes and he could tell Kimi didn’t believe him. 

“Bye Dad.”

Charles climbed out of the car and walked off, nodding a hello to Daniel and pulling his hood tighter around his head. He didn’t want to have to deal with anyone today. 

Five more days. 

Just got to get through one more _fucking_ week and he’d be free for a while. 

Free to be as quiet and alone as he wanted. 

If only Mick would let him.

Charles tried to keep his head down, buried inside the warmth and protection of his black hoodie, his hands buried deep in his pockets as he shuffled along with the crowds. A hand darted out and grabbed his upper arm, fingers pressing over where the bruises already lay, and tugged.

“Sorry,” Charles muttered as some people were cut off, nearly stumbling into them as they had to abruptly stop walking so Charles could be dragged through.

“Oh, careful Charles, you don’t want to trip up,” Mick murmured. To anyone else it would’ve sounded caring but to Charles he only heard the threat of what would happen if he made a scene. If he tripped up, people would notice, they’d notice Mick, and Charles would be in trouble. 

He’d still not spoken to Daniel about whatever he’d said to Mick, but nothing more had ever been mentioned and so Charles guessed he was safe. 

Max was safe. That’s what mattered.

“What’s wrong, hmm? You don’t look happy, Charlie.”

“I’m tired, Mick. Can we-”

“Go somewhere quiet so you can talk to me? Of course we can, Charles.” Mick finished, grinning warmly but evilly at Charles.

“Please Mick...” Charles mumbled, “I need to get to class.”

“You’ve got plenty of time baby, don’t worry.” Mick soothed. Charles wanted to rip his arm out of his grip, pull himself away and scream that he was tired. He was so fucking tired.

_If Max doesn’t deserve this, what makes you think you do? You’re twins. Protect yourself and him_

“I have to save him,” Charles muttered under his breath, mindful that Mick didn’t hear him.

_He wouldn’t want this_

“I brought this on myself. I need to stop him.”

_Tell someone, Charles. For Christ sakes talk to me_

The narrative in his head quickly changed. No longer was it his own internal monologue talking to him, it was Max. Max was telling him to be safe. 

He needed Max.

“Let me go.” Charles said, trying to push all his authority into his voice and demand Mick stop dragging him along. 

Charles’ heart sped up when he realised where he was. 

The language corridor toilets. 

Specifically the cubicle on the far left. 

This was where Max always hid. This was Max’s safe spot when he was in school and couldn’t be tucked against Daniel’s side. 

Charles didn’t want to be here. This was his and Max’s place. Mick couldn’t taint it. He couldn’t. 

Please don’t let him taint it. 

“Oh, you don’t want that.”

“Let me go!” Charles screamed.

A hard punch to his stomach had him quieten down and double over.

“Stop screaming you absolute pussy. You fucking asked for this.”

“I didn’t ask for you to batter me.”

“No, you didn’t,” Mick acknowledged, “You asked me to leave your special brother alone. And I am. So deal with it.”

Charles looked up at Mick and for the first time in his history of dealing with Mick, he wasn’t able to hold he tears back from his eyes.

“What did we ever do to you?”

“You ruined everything. You special fucking Vettel boys and your special fucking daddy.”

“I don’t understand.” Charles muttered.

“You don’t need to,” Mick shrugged. “Just keep accepting it like the good little boy you are.”

Mick threaded his fingers through Charles’ hair, knocking his hood off his head and gripping on tight, pulling at his head until Charles’ eyes were watering and it felt as though Mick was going to rip his hair from his scalp. 

“Precious little boys, aren’t you? Daddy must be so proud. Your special Daddy who can make anyone bend over and do whatever he wants for them. And little Maxy is just like him, isn’t he? Such a people pleaser. And you, you’re just the family fucking disappointment. I’d have dropped you back off at the shitty little orphanage your daddies got you from if I was them. I wouldn’t want a stupid fucking whore for a kid. Your real parents didn’t want you, I have no idea why Sebastian would adopt you.”

“They love me…” He muttered sadly, trying to convince himself that Mick wasn’t saying the things that constantly went through his head. 

“No, they don’t,” Mick laughed, “They put up with you. Bet they’re counting down the days until you’re 18 and can tell you to fuck off.”

Charles felt the tears dropping off his jaw, and it was only when he looked up at Mick and begged did he let go. 

“Please, stop. Please.”

Mick laughed lowly, dropping Charles’ hair from his grip and watched Charles slide down the wall, hugging his knees to his chest and looking up at Mick. He wasn’t scared of Mick anymore. He didn’t understand him, nor his intentions, but he wasn’t scared. Instead he felt resigned. Mick had torn into him, tearing apart every single little insecurity he had. 

“That’s where you belong, below people. You’re nothing, Charles. You put on this front and everyone thinks you’re great, but you’re just an actor. You’re worthless.”

Charles dropped his head onto his arms and murmured quietly, 

“Please go.”

Mick scoffed and left with a final lingering look over Charles’ body. 

Charles pushed the door shut behind Mick, letting the sobs wrack through his body as Mick’s words echoed through his head. It was different knowing that it was what he heard from himself every single day, to actually hear it coming from someone else. Someone that didn’t know what went on in Charles’ head and also didn’t actually know the dynamics of his home life, yet had hit Charles with words that slapped harder than any hit to his body that Mick had enacted upon him. 

It was hard to catch his breath and Charles wanted nothing more than to go home and curl up in his room and hide from everyone and everything. His Isä wasn’t in the studio today and he didn’t want to worry him by coming home early. And if he skipped school, Sebastian would 100% be phoning him up and asking why he wasn’t in class. 

Charles couldn’t trust if his Dad asked him why he was skipping school that he wouldn’t completely break down and everything would go to shit. 

Everything was drowning him and he couldn’t keep his head above the water, and Charles didn’t want his Dad to know. He couldn’t admit he was weak and that he couldn’t handle responsibility for once. 

His phone pinged loudly in the cubicle and Charles dragged it out of his pocket. 

_Hi Charles, I’ve noticed you’ve not come into class yet, even though I definitely saw you walking onto site. The work is attached and when you are comfortable coming in to class, we can have a word about what’s going on. Whatever is happening, you have people that want to support you and I am concerned that you are not accepting what people want to offer you. Your coursework can have a deadline extension, but again, we will discuss this when you come to class. Please email back if you will not be attending, I don’t need a full explanation, but if you could just briefly let me know if you need some time away from the classroom that would be appreciated and I will mark your attendance for you. I do expect you to turn up at some point so we can have a chat._

_Thanks,  
Amy_

Charles dropped his head back onto the cubicle wall and cradled his phone to his chest. Amy was his textiles teacher, the one that taught him how to sew back when he was a little eleven year old who cared more about mucking about with his friends and trying to shove their hand under the foot of the sewing machines instead of paying attention to how much freedom creating something from some cloth and your hands could give you. Once Charles had settled down, been separated from his friends and sat through a detention to do the work he’d missed due to being sent out for stabbing a friend with a needle, he’d fallen in love with the art. 

Amy, who he’d called Miss Carter back in the day, had noticed his nimble fingers, the way Charles would lose focus on other things and it was just him and his work. He could sew better than most of the people she’d gone to fashion college with, amazed at how quickly and intricately Charles could sew things up and transform something from a standard item of clothing to something no one would’ve every thought up. For his GCSE Exam, Charles had been given some giant pieces of material and told to make something, and he’d created the most amazing and well-fitted 60s inspired Mondrian Dress, with a bold orange, emerald and purple style that shouldn’t have worked but was the most amazing thing that a 16 year old could’ve created. 

He’d never shown his Dads his work, never told them that the only A* grades he’d gotten for his GCSEs were in art and textiles. Max had briefly seen it, but even still, Charles kept it private from them. His work always pulled from his life, specifically from Max. There was a special kind of magic in being a twin and there was so much Charles learnt from it. And his teachers knew that he often would create something with his brothers in mind, but they didn’t know Max and Valtteri that well, and so they never saw the history and the vulnerability in the works. 

Charles loved creating, never felt as at peace with the world and his mind unless there was a pencil in his hand and a sewing kit at his side. However vunerable he felt it meant nothing when he could put his headphones on, leave his spotify to play random songs, and get lost in the creative process. 

That’s why he was applying to art school. He needed to be around people that understood that. And if he attended the school he wanted, no one would ever have to know that he was Charles Raikkonen-Vettel. He would just be boring old Charles. There was no expecatation, no one from his school wanted to go to his dream university and he could finally be free of being Max’s brother and Sebastian’s son. There might be a couple people that picked up on the Raikkonen part of his surname, his lecturers most prominently, but that would be fine. He didn’t mind the idea of that. Being known as the son of one of the most insanely talented graffiti tattoo artists in Europe was a pretty cool mantle to hold, and when Max got his degree and he was saving the world’s children, he’d be proud to hold that mantle too. 

He was proud of his entire family. 

Even Sebastian. 

But he was also tired of only being known for his name and his body. 

He wanted someone to know him for his creativity, his individuality, his talent. 

Charles was talented. Fuck whatever Sebastian said, he could do this. He could be the one that started a revolution through their family. 

He was going to start a revolution. He was going to prove all of them wrong. 

Charles clenched his fist tight, squeezing it a couple times and feeling his muscles jump in his forearm. A reminder that he was alive. He was working. His hands and fingers had a talent to show off. He had to make them see that accepting him into the degree was the best possible thing they could do. Because he was going to be the best possible thing to happen to that university. 

He’d prove it ten-fold over just so that he could prove Sebastian wrong. 

His Isä was talented, he wouldn’t have a PhD without it. He knew how to art. And Charles had learnt so much from him. But Charles could be better. He could be the best thing to ever hit these industries because he wanted to be. He had to be. Charles was going to hit this world harder than it ever had and he’d have fashion schools fighting over him. 

Charles was going to do this. He was going to succeed. 

And he couldn’t wait to wipe those smug smiles off of everyone’s faces when he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so what's the verdict on what Charles has been planning? I'm excited to share his journey to going to a school for fashion and art, it's what he deserves even if Sebastian says some choice phrases that make you wanna smack him in the face repeatedly
> 
> Comments, kudos and feedback are all greatly appreciated.
> 
> Tumblr as always at 3303andmore - feel free to come and shout at me over there 😉


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **CONTENT WARNINGS: Mentions of abuse**

Once Charles had been able to convince himself that he needed to exit the toilets and actually go to class if he was going to succeed at all, he’d stuck his headphones into his ears with the music on loud to the point of hurting, pulled his hood back up around his face and walked along, keeping his head down and ignoring everyone that tried to talk to him. 

Part of Charles was still close to crying, and when Charlotte grabbed him by the elbow he nearly broke down to her. The only reason he didn’t was because he saw Max in the distance and if someone else caught sight of Charles crying, Max would know within seconds and he couldn’t have that. He didn’t want Max to feel guilty. It was Charles that was supposed to feel and carry the guilt. He’d let Max down originally, it was his turn to stomach the pain and deal with it. 

Charles hid in the textiles room for most of the day. Amy had sent an email to his art teacher for him, telling him that Charles was catching up on some coursework and would be out of lessons for the day when he’d come into her room with red-rimmed eyes and a panic state still running through his body. 

“I need a portfolio,” was the only thing he told her, sitting down at his normal seat once everyone had gone to break and burying his head in his work. Whatever the issues were, Charles would deal with them later. 

He had a portfolio to start prepping. 

Even if his dream school turned him down, other schools would still want the same thing, and so Charles anticipated that he’d need to start getting it ready now. Carole told him to be ready for whatever the schools wanted, and Charles needed to be. He couldn’t risk someone at home walking into his room unannounced and seeing him sat there with all his fabric and photographs and canvas’ out, trying to work out what he should digitalise for his portfolio. He’d do that here. He was safe here. He could be quiet and no one would call him out on it and no one would say he was being a _moody little kid_ when it was all because he now felt safer alone. 

By home time, Charles was covered in paint and his fingers ached badly from sewing, but he was content. Mick hadn’t been able to come near him and aside from some worried glances from Amy, Charles had been left to struggle through his head. Max had text him at some point, but Charles didn’t notice until the end of the day. He’d put his phone on Do Not Disturb and it was only when Amy had threatened to stab him with his needle that he’d even paused for lunch. He’d been too in the zone, too happy in his own head and content for the first time in a long-ass time to stop. 

Charles was exhausted when he got home, all the events of the day catching up to the one hour of sleep that he’d had and now he wanted nothing more than to curl up in a ball and sleep for the rest of the night. For once, he was actually caught up on school. 

Turns out being absolutely terrified and wracked with guilt was a really good motivator for making yourself catch up with and actually get on top of your school work. Not that Charles would recommend it. He’d take procrastinating and drowning in school work over being terrified of Mick any day of the week, but it was nice to know that at least something positive had come out of it if you took away the whole hopes of applying for a university that Charles could only hope he was talented enough for. That one was out of his control. His school work, however, that one was in his control. 

Charles was laying on the sofa, his legs slung over the arm of it with a blanket resting on top of him, his eyes loosely focused on the screen as his thumbs moved lazily over the PlayStation controller, sending Crash Bandicoot running down a track on the back of a warthog. Charles wasn’t entirely sure what he was doing, but he was winning (he thought so at least) and it was keeping him awake long enough that dinner wouldn’t be much longer. Max was sat in front of him, textbook open on the coffee table as he scribbled some notes out, and every now and again he’d look up and criticise what Charles was doing. 

“If you’re so fucking clever at this game, how come you failed this level seventeen times, hm? First attempt and I’m skyrocketing my way through it.”

“Only because you saw me fail so many times,” Max grumbled in response. 

Charles rolled his eyes but ignored him. It was nice to hang out with Max and not have Daniel here for a change. And he hadn’t even mentioned him yet, so Charles was classing this afternoon as a major win. 

Until Max purposefully threw his head back and knocked Charles’ fingers, sending him flying off the track and into the abyss below. 

“You little shit what did you do that for?!” Charles shouted, whacking Max’s shoulder with his fist.

“You deserved it.”

“I was only beating you!”

“And I’m your big brother, can’t have you doing better than me, can I?”

Charles didn’t know what to say in response. Part of him wanted to make a comment about how their dads wouldn’t let Charles be better, how theoretically Charles would never be better than him. Max was _Max_. He could do anything. 

But that wasn’t how Max meant it and as much as Charles wanted to tell his brother that things weren’t the same, he knew he couldn’t. Max needed his sanctity and if he believed that the only way Charles was better than him was in video games he’d take it. He hadn’t suffered through all what Mick had done to throw it all away at an off-hand joke about video games. 

Charles kept his mouth shut instead, probably for the first time in history. And he knew the second that Max realised he’d never retaliated, as he sharply turned his head and stared at the lifeless look in Charles’ eyes. Part of Charles expected Max to say something, anything. But he didn’t. 

Charles didn’t know if he was grateful or not. 

“Boys, dinner!” The shout echoed through the house. Charles paused his game and shuffled after Max, staring wistfully at his blanket as he left it behind. 

Dinner was uneventful. It was some random stir-fry thing that Valtteri adored for dinner that night, and Charles could barely keep his eyes open through it. He saw his Dads exchange a look when Charles nearly face planted his plate, startling himself awake just in time to stop there being an intense orange mess across his face. 

“You alright, Charles?” Sebastian asked, to which Charles simply nodded. 

“Fine.” 

“You look tired.”

“It’s alright, just didn’t sleep well.”

“Turn your PlayStation off earlier, then. I saw your light was on early this morning.”

“It was off,” he whispered, not wanting to argue with him but also not wanting to have to deal with Sebastian being in a mood with him. 

“Don’t get moody, we’re just looking out for you.”

Charles didn’t bless him with a response, knowing he was too tired to keep the snappy tone out of his voice. If they were looking out for him, they’d have noticed the bruises. They’d have noticed he was quiet because he was scared of going to school and not because he was going through a phase. They’d have given a shit about him applying to art school more than just his Isä telling him he could do it. 

Charles wanted to retort, start an argument but at the same time he didn’t care. Sebastian didn’t care about Charles’ feelings apparently, and he couldn’t find it in himself to fight something that he’d lost himself in. Instead he rolled his eyes slumped down in his chair, dragging his phone out of his pocket and scrolled Instagram in place of talking to his family. 

“Daaaaaaaad,” Max sung, propping his face on his fists and grinning at Sebastian, distracting him from Charles’ attitude whilst Valtteri got up to help Isä tidy away the plates and pots from dinner.

“What do you want?”

“How do you know I want something?”

“You only ever call me dad like that when you want something.”

Max grinned cheekily and Charles rolled his eyes. 

“What do you want, Max?”

“Can I bring Daniel with us?”

“To the Gala?”

Max nodded, smiling hopefully.

“He has a suit, and I can give him one of my ties. Please Dad, I promise that we’ll behave.” Max begged, his eyes wide in hope. 

Sebastian seemed to consider it momentarily as he stared at Max. 

“No sneaking off and no making out.” Sebastian said, wagging his finger at Max in warning.

“Thank you!” Max shouted, jumping out of his seat and wrapping his arms around Sebastian’s shoulders. “You’re the best!”

Sebastian laughed and brought his arm up to hug Max back.

“Don’t let your Dad hear you say that.”

“Too late!” Kimi shouted through, which had Max and Seb both laugh. 

Charles couldn’t believe this. Sebastian’s Gala events were always boring and they’d always been told that they had to behave and stick together, none of them ever able to bring a friend along to make it better, as their dad argued that they had each other to entertain themselves. Which was fine, even though it was annoying that they’d never been able to suffer through it with friends, but Charles had always been able to keep himself and his brothers entertained and they’d been able to suffer through them in the end. 

But now Max was going to be busy with Daniel, and Charles bet that Valtteri would be busy socialising with his dad’s co-workers, leaving Charles to awkwardly follow after his parents to avoid being the third wheel to Max and Daniel. 

The gala was happening the Wednesday before they were due to finish school for the Christmas break, and his dads knew that Charles had a 9am class on Thursdays. There was no way he would be able to suffer through the event by drinking his body weight in expensive whiskey. Sebastian would be making sure none of them had anything but water the entire night. 

“Dad, can I skip it? I have some work I wa-”

“No.” Sebastian said, stopping Charles from even coming up with a formal excuse, “You know you have to be there.”

Charles sighed and nodded. He knew the chances of getting out of it were next to none anyway, but to actually be denied it still wasn’t fun. There was no way he’d be able to enjoy this.

“An old friend is going to be there, and he’s bringing his kids, so you three are coming and you’re going to behave, okay?”

Charles nodded and looked fleetingly over at Max, who had his head buried in his phone and was probably letting Daniel know the good news. 

“Make sure he’s got a suit that works with yours Max,” Sebastian reminded him.

“Already did.” Max quipped back, “Don’t worry Dad, I got this.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes at Max and looked over at Kimi, the two of them smiling at each other before looking back at Max. They had matching loving smiles on their faces as they watched the grin grow on Max’s face. There was something about Max’s grin that was infectious, but Charles didn’t want to smile. Selfishly, he wanted his brother back. 

He didn’t want to keep sharing him with Daniel. He was lonely. He wanted to be able to climb into bed beside Max and have his brother comfortingly run his fingers through his hair and tell him he was okay. He wanted to tell Max he was terrified about applying for his art school and that he was terrified that Mick would eventually do something that would break him to a point that Charles wasn’t sure he’d find a way back. 

Charles couldn’t remember the last time he smiled properly. 

“Dan and I will go back to his, we’ll fetch his stuff and then he’ll drive us back here, is that okay?” 

Charles dropped his head onto the table and started to drift off before he heard his dad’s response, but the lack of Max’s arguing told him he was probably given permission to do whatever he wanted again. Like he always was.

Charles didn’t like these events. But he guaranteed that Max had just made it the worst event that he’d ever been forced into attending. 

———

Charles was stood in his room on Wednesday afternoon, staring at his suit hanging up on his wardrobe door and dreading putting the fabric against his skin. He liked wearing suits, he liked the way they fit his body (he’d taken a number of them in so that they fit him better than what he’d been provided with) and he liked the way he looked in them. But they were stiff and when Charles’ body hurt as much as it did, the feeling of being stuck in a rigid piece of clothing made him want to die. 

Max and Daniel weren’t back yet, and Charles knew that this was his opportunity to go and shower. The three brothers shared bathroom would be completely free and he wouldn’t risk either his brother or his brother’s boyfriend seeing the dark grotesqueness painted across him. 

His body was starting to reflect a Kandinsky painting, the putrid greens mixing with the horrific purple/blues, with a stark red line standing against it where Mick had caught him hard on earlier in the day. 

It was a mess. 

A mess that normally was an organised chaotic composition on a canvas had been transformed onto his skin, highlighting the deepest contours of pain from the darkest parts of his soul. 

Charles loved art. But not like this. 

He’d loved Kandinsky. Seeing it on his own skin made him detest the work.

Charles turned his back to the mirror when he started to pull his clothes off, not wanting to see the unmovable paint on his body. Charles raised his eyes to the ceiling. He couldn’t look down and see the reminder of how strong he had to be when he wanted to be so weak. 

But he couldn’t. 

He had to keep Max safe. 

And he was. He was being a good brother. He was doing what he needed to. 

Showering was numbing. Every time a pellet of water hit his skin, Charles felt as though he could scream. Instead, silent tears rolled down his cheeks as he kept the suffering to himself. 

He had to keep remembering the happiness on Max’s face, how pleased he was that he could revise in peace and he wasn’t fearing anything. Max was finally happy. Charles couldn’t let him lose that now. 

Getting dressed was marginally better, even though he had a slight moment of fear when he was stood in only his boxer shorts, rubbing cream gently across the bruises and there was a knock at his door. 

“Wear the white shirt and not your t-shirt please.” His dad’s voice came through the hardwood but he didn’t come in.

Charles held his breath the entire time until he heard his Dad’s footsteps above his head, in his own room rather than on the boy’s floor. Only then did he let himself breathe out. There would’ve been no hiding the bruises if his dad had come in. It seemed as though there wasn’t an inch of skin not hosting his bruises in some way. And Charles knew that his Dad would’ve immediately assumed the bruises came from sex. Since Max had accidentally dobbed him in to their parents on the fact that Charles had slept with a large proportion of their sixth-form, he knew that they would assume the bruises came from him having someone get a bit rough with him. Which Charles didn’t mind, it had happened in the past but this was different. It wasn’t him willingly and consensually doing this off his own accord. He wanted to beg Mick to stop but he knew he’d never listen. But his Dad most likely wouldn’t want to hear that, he’d been too busy thinking that Charles was nothing but a slut. 

_You could tell Dad, he’d make this go away_ , a small voice in his head told him. But Charles couldn’t. He couldn’t do it. He was the family failure, he couldn’t tell Sebastian what he’d been doing now. It would be a fate worse than anything he could imagine if Sebastian didn’t believe him.

His phone pinging with an email notification alarmed Charles and he barely refrained from jumping at the sudden intrusion into his thoughts. He looked behind him and saw the app logo showed it to be his school email, his tutor’s name emblazoned across the top. 

He’d deal with that in a bit. He knew what it was. At least he hoped he did. This could be it. The first stage on his journey forward. 

Charles turned back to the suit that was hanging up. The blue was one that was hard to describe. It wasn’t electric cobalt blue and yet it wasn’t a deep midnight either, it was an awkward middle ground that no one was quite sure how to describe it. Charles understood how the suit felt. The woollen material was soft under his fingers as he brushed his fingertips over it. 

One day, some lost, unfortunate soul would be stood in their bedroom, alone and scared, and they’d run their fingers over a garment, feeling a sense of comfort in knowing that regardless of how scared and alone they were, they were the best dressed person in that room. Because Charles was going to design clothes that did that. He was going to make clothes that made someone feel as though they were the most important person in the room that everyone wanted to look at, even when you wanted nothing more than to dive into the shadows and be alone for once. 

The stark white shirt was tucked under the blazer on the hangers. 

Charles would look normal if he wore that. 

And his dad had explicitly told him to wear the shirt. 

Which Charles was going to do. 

Until he pulled the tight black t-shirt over his head instead. Charles felt more like himself when he pulled on the slim checked blue trousers and tucked his t-shirt into them. His father was going to absolutely crucify him when he saw. He’d been meticulous enough when they wore their school uniforms, making sure that all three boys had a tie the length of A4 paper and their shirts tucked in securely. And when he saw that Charles had ditched the white shirt for a black t-shirt, he was going to murder him. 

But Charles needed this. He needed to feel safe and feel like himself, because he was starting to lose track of who he was. Mick was tearing him apart and Charles needed to cling onto the last of himself, even if Mick wouldn’t let him. 

Charles could hear Max’s laughter in the next room over and Daniel saying something back. 

He’d never even heard them come home. 

Charles missed the days in which Max would come into his room when they had these events and he’d get dressed beside Charles. Charles had never been able to tie a tie, had never been able to get the hang of it, and inevitably every single day they’d been growing up, Max had been left with the task of stopping Charles from throttling himself when he tried too hard and got it noted around his neck. Now they were in the sixth-form, they didn’t have to wear a uniform anymore and Charles loved it, but he missed the days of Max furiously tying his tie for him no matter what. 

Once his top was tucked in, broadcasting his narrow waistline and accentuating his long legs, Charles pulled his blazer on and adjusted it until it sat flush against his arms, the shoulders balancing on him effortless. He ducked down into the mirror ruffled his hair around, running his fingers through it until it was a sophisticated mess. He picked up his trainers next, holding them in his hands and dropped his phone into his inside pocket. 

Max’s laughter had died down now, and instead he could hear the low humming of Daniel singing along to whatever music he had playing in Max’s room. 

Charles knocked on the door and waited for Max to shout back that he could come in, and then stuck his head around the door. 

“Hey, how’s it going?”

“Good,” Max smiled back, “Come in, sit down.”

Charles dropped his trainers onto the floor and plonked himself down on Max’s bed, his black socks rustling against Max’s quilt as he watched Max and Daniel move around the room, effortlessly gliding against each other as they finished getting ready. 

_Email_ a voice in his head reminded him, and Charles dragged his phone out of his pocket. 

“Dad is going to crucify you if he sees you in that top.” Max helpfully pointed out, which had Charles shrug. 

“He’ll crucify me regardless.”

“He only does it because you’re acting like a brat to him.”

Charles shrugged again and dropped his gaze onto his phone. 

Max was digging through his draw, pulling up different ties and looking at them against the startling black of his suit. Eventually he pulled out two ties, one for himself and one for Daniel, giggling softly to himself as he chucked it at Daniel. Charles looked up briefly, rolling his eyes at the red and blue matching Christmas themed ties that Max had dragged out. They’d been a gift the Christmas after the twins had turned 10, a joke present of something that was the same but different, but Charles hadn’t ever bothered to wear his. When he saw the cobalt blue held in Daniel’s hand though, he wanted to rip it from him and hold it tightly and never let it go. 

Instead Charles dragged his eyes away and back onto his phone, opening up the email from his tutor. 

_Hi Charles, excellent personal statement. Really speaks wonders about you and your desire for the course. I’ve checked through for grammar and spelling errors as you asked and have fixed any of them. You’ve spoke beautifully about your love for fashion and art, and I’m very happy for you to submit it as it is, if you would like._

_Excellent work! (GET IT TRANSCRIBED INTO FRENCH NOW!!)_

_Carole_

Charles smiled at the words, and as he opened his mouth to tell Max, finally at a stage where he needed his big brother’s help, he slammed his mouth shut instead. A devilish look was crossing Daniel’s face and Charles was still too slumped on Max’s bed for him to have realised Charles was going to say something. 

He watched instead as Daniel moved forward, kissing Max’s jaw, and watched his brother smile back at him as he pulled his collar up to start doing up his tie. 

“Max, baby, darling, dear, love of my life,” Daniel said, tying his arms around Max’s waist from behind and watching his skilled fingers spin the tie into its intricate knot that looked hilarious considering the bright red Christmas themed nature of it. 

“What do you want?”

“Beautiful, stunning, my gorgeous boyfriend,” Daniel carried on, “The most handsome boy in the world, the one whose eyes shine brighter than moon, the sun and the stars combined.”

“Seriously what do you want?” Max repeated, laughing at him. 

“I need you to help me do my tie.” Daniel sheepishly told him, holding up the tie that matched Max’s in every way but colour. Max laughed and tugged his tie to finish the knot and held his hand over his shoulder for Daniel to drop it into place. 

Max spun in Daniel’s arms, his face radiating love as he delicately pulled the fabric around Daniel’s neck. Daniel kept his arms around Max’s waist and grinned the entire time, his face only inches from Daniel’s as he kept his eyes fixed on creating the knot at his throat.

Charles didn’t like this. It used to be him stood in front of Max and waiting for his tie to be done, admittedly he didn’t look at Max the way Daniel did nor did he stand that close, but it wasn’t Charles that Max was helping anymore. How he wished he could tell Max what he was doing to help him instead. 

“You’re so talented,” Daniel whispered, leaning forward and catching Max’s lips lightly. Max’s fingers ran down Daniel’s chest, carefully resting against the strong plains of his body, “My talented boy.”

“It’s just a tie,” Max murmured back, but his eyes were shining happily and Charles didn’t think he’d ever seen his brother so content with life. 

None of Max’s anxiety was shining through and the fact that his brother wasn’t having to take medication or have therapy anymore prided Charles beyond anything he would’ve ever expected. Max had had enough shit through his life, he deserved this. Charles deserved to be the one suffering for once.

But it also reminded Charles that he couldn’t tell Max about the fact that he was going to send in an application to go to university right now. Max was a different person these days. His energy wasn’t on school and Charles. It was school, Daniel, Daniel’s schoolwork, and then Charles was somewhere further along on that list of priorities. Max wouldn’t understand. Part of Charles still expected him to turn around and support their Dad, tell Charles that he was doing the wrong thing by applying to art school. Going to art school would be the biggest change that could possibly hit them, and Charles didn’t want to tell Max now and have his brother worry for the next 18 months about Charles leaving. He had to go someday, and as much as Max wanted him to stick around, he couldn’t.

One day they’d have to spread their wings and fly away from the comfort of their Dads nest, and Charles was terrified. And ready. 

He was so ready to be away from all of this. 

“Boys! Are you ready?” 

“Just putting our shoes on!” Max shouted back, looking over at Charles briefly and then focusing back on him, “Are you alright? You seem a bit off.”

“I’m fine.” He nodded, averting his eyes to look down at his shoes and fiddling with the laces between his fingers as he loosened them enough to slide his feet in. 

“Dad will-”

“Kill me when he sees the trainers, yeah I know Max. I’m not changing for him.” Charles interrupted, holding his hand up placatingly to shut Max up. “I’ve done enough of that over the years.”

Max looked over at Daniel, Charles watching in his peripheral vision, rolling his eyes at Charles’ dramatics. Daniel shrugged and held his hand out.

“C’mon beautiful, I can’t wait to be on your arm.” Daniel grinned, tugging Max into his arms and kissing him briefly. 

“Not in front of Charles,” Max murmured. 

“Let the world see,” Daniel responded, “I’ve been blessed with you, let me show you off.”

“Dan,” Max breathed out, and Charles quickly scarpered. He didn’t want to see this. Didn’t want to see the ways in which he was failing as a human being by seeing his brother being all lovey-dovey with his boyfriend all the while Charles had lost everyone important to him. 

His ‘friends’ didn’t really talk to him much anymore. Charlotte was normally around and there had been many times that he’d dropped his head onto her shoulder and she’d wrapped her arm around his waist and sat in silence with him. Charlotte never asked him what was wrong, or whether he was okay, and Charles needed that. He needed someone to just hold him, sometimes. He’d grown reliant on that being Max. No one could’ve ever compared to the relationship he had with his twin brother. And yet, Max was normally with Daniel when Charles needed him most nowadays. Max, more often than not, was with Daniel after school these days too, either sitting waiting for him to hang out after practice or Daniel was at their house, the two of them studying together. 

Charles wanted that. 

He’d never had a study buddy in his brother. Max was meticulous. He was the kind of person you saw on Instagram who had the colour-coordinated system and the intensely detailed notes that you didn’t even need to attend class to understand. Charles didn’t know Psychology or Dutch, he’d never bothered to study them, and yet when he read Max’s notes everything made sense. And if Charles was going to get the C-Grade in English he needed to get into his university, he’d need Max come next year. 

Charles grabbed his duffle coat and wrapped it around his body, hiding the fact that he was wearing the t-shirt from Sebastian and looked at himself in the mirror as he heard Max and Daniel talking downstairs with their parents. He looked good. 

Charles was really hoping that this gala would be at least marginally worth it. 

“Charles! I won’t tell you again! Time to go!” His Dad’s voice shouted up the stairs, frustration evident in his voice as Charles dawdled. 

When he’d thought on Monday that Max had somehow made this Gala the worst one he’d ever been forced into attending, Charles had spent the next couple days trying to convince himself he was wrong. 

It would be fine. 

But now Charles was walking down the stairs, his stomach was intensely unsettled and he had a very distinct feeling that he wasn’t wrong. 

Something wasn’t going to go well, and he didn’t think it was only going to be Max sneaking off with Daniel. 

No.

Something was wrong. Something bad was going to happen. 

Charles just didn’t _fucking_ know what was going to happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)
> 
> Bad things coming
> 
> The next couple of chapters will have some potentially quite triggering content, so please make sure you read the chapter notes at the start so that if it is something that you are uncomfortable with, you know which bits to skip / to avoid the chapter completely
> 
> Comments, kudos and feedback always greatly appreciated❤️
> 
> Tumblr as always at 3303andmore - come and shout at me for toying with your emotions😉
> 
> (also low-key nearly forgot to upload lol)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **CONTENT WARNINGS: Mention of abuse**
> 
> So this is the start of a little arc that is going to be very bad and very painful and quite triggering potentially for some people, so whilst this chapter doesn't actually feature The Bad Thing (I forgot my own plot lol), it does start to build the impression that something is going to go wrong, and as I mentioned in the previous notes, please make sure you read the chapter notes in the next chapter as it will mention something quite triggering.

Charles was sat in an awkward silence as Kimi drove him and Sebastian across town. Valtteri was in the car with Max and Daniel, following after them, and Charles would’ve done anything to be in the car with them instead. Sebastian had told them that Charles wasn’t allowed in the car with them, knowing that if anyone was likely to convince the other boys to slack off and end up at McDonalds buying ice cream instead of actually attending the Gala, it would be Charles. 

“How’s school been?”

“Okay.”

“Got much work over the holidays? I’m sure you haven’t finished your coursework yet.”

“No, I’m caught up.” Charles said, looking moodily out of the window. 

“Are you actually, or are you ‘Charles’ level of caught up', meaning that in about three weeks when your mocks start you have a frantic dash to complete your work?”

“Signed off. It’s all done. Just got prep to do.” Charles told Sebastian. 

“Oh…” Sebastian said, and Charles had to smirk at the shock in his voice. “Excellent. You can actually enjoy your Christmas then.”

“Yep.”

“Are you looking forward to going to Germany?”

“I guess so.”

“You and Max could go on some day trips if you want,” Sebastian said, smiling at Charles over his shoulder, “You’re seventeen, and both of you speak German pretty well. You can take care of each other okay, can’t you?”

Charles nodded. If only he knew what Charles did to take care of Max. If he could see the bruises residing on his skin underneath his clothes. Instead of saying anything more, Charles leaned his elbow against the window of the car and tried to refrain from falling asleep. He thought he saw his parents look at each other, exchanging a look that Charles couldn’t decipher but was probably frustration knowing them. 

Instead of dwelling on them, Charles pulled his phone out of his pocket. He’d imported his personal statement onto the UCAS form earlier, and he was now at a point where he needed to press that button and send it off. Send it off into the atmosphere and wait for someone to catch it and bring him back, giving him a home at the school he wanted more than anything. 

“Can you at least try to reign in the attitude tonight? I know you’re pissed off that Max has brought Daniel with him, but it makes him happy and you two need to stop being so reliant on each other at these things.”

“I haven’t got an attitude, I’m just tired.”

“Well wipe that ‘I feel so sorry for myself’ look off your face then.”

Charles sighed and nodded, keeping his eyes fixed on his phone. 

Just one tap. Just one tap and he’d have sent it. 

“People will probably ask you about school, so please grin and bear it, okay?”

“Dad I know what I’m doing!” Charles admonished, throwing his head back into the seat and staring coldly at them. 

Fuck it, Charles thought, I’m doing it. 

And so he did. He pressed apply. There was no going back now. He had to find a way out of this hellhole because he couldn’t keep going through this.

Charles had to abruptly drop his chin to his chest and duck into his seat, pulling the hood of his duffle coat over his face as he tried to stop the tears from falling. He couldn’t keep doing this. It was too much. Mick’s words of him being worthless mixed with Sebastian’s indignant treatment of him as though he was five years old. Charles looked out of the car window as he bit his thumb, trying to stop the tears and the breathy sobs from escaping. He wasn’t having Sebastian know what he’d done to him. Mick won too often at school. Sebastian couldn’t win in this little torture chamber of a vehicle. 

It was tense for the rest of the car-ride as Charles tried to calm himself down, repressing all his anger and upset and holding it in, trying to stop himself from completely losing it with his parents. He was so fucking tired of every single second of his life and personality being dictated by them and their fucking desires for him. He didn’t want the life Sebastian was trying to lead him down. 

“Oh god, what have I done?” Charles murmured to himself as the email notification popped up saying his application had been successfully sent. 

He’d done it. 

He’d applied for art school. 

Now he played the waiting game. 

The atmosphere in the car was tense and at times Charles did feel as though his dads would’ve rather he not be present. Sebastian kept quietly talking to Kimi, dropping his hand onto Kimi’s that was holding the gearstick and carelessly tracing his fingers over Kimi’s knuckles. Charles thought he’d heard his name dropped into conversation a couple times, and he’d definitely heard both his brother’s names, so he was probably getting aimlessly compared to them both yet again. He was tired of caring. 

The second the car pulled up, Charles climbed out and stood to the side, staring at Daniel’s car as he waited for Max to get out too. 

“They’re being insufferable, please come and get a drink with me before Dad notices that I’ve got whiskey in my hand.” Charles said, grabbing hold of Max’s hand and tugging him along into the Gala.

Max laughed as he followed after Charles, throwing a glance backwards over his shoulder and smiling at Daniel.

“How much whiskey are you going to drink tonight?”

“If I have my way? Enough that I’m going to be hungover as hell tomorrow and will probably sleep through my alarm and have Dad scream at me.”

“He’s going to murder you, Charles. You’re seventeen, you’re not even allowed to drink.”

“Pretty sure I gave the bartender a blowjob once, he’ll give me whatever I want, Maxy.” Charles grinned as he handed his coat over to a member of the door staff. 

Max sighed at Charles and shook his head. 

“You really don’t need to keep stooping to that level, you know? Like, people want you to be happy, Charles, you don’t need to keep using your body to make people smile around you and want you to be happy.”

“It’s chill, Maxy, it’s chill. I’m good.”

“You haven’t partied in a while.” Max pointed out, and if Charles didn’t know any better he’d think Max sounded concerned. 

“Just haven’t been feeling it," He shrugged, quickly changing the subject, "How was the drive with Daniel? Did Val have fun being a third-wheel?”

“Daniel smiled at me for like .3 of a second and Valtteri told him to keep his eyes on the road or he’d smack his head off the steering wheel.” Max told him, grinning as they approached the bar. 

“I still think Valtteri’s long-standing dislike of Daniel is one of the best things to come out of your relationship.” 

Max laughed heartily and Charles threw his arm over Max’s shoulder.

“I’ve missed this,” Charles murmured, “I love that you’re happy with Dan, but I miss hanging out with you.”

“I know, I’m really sorry. I got caught up with him. I promise, this Christmas break, me and you are going to spend some time together and we’re going on an adventure, yeah?”

“Dad mentioned that when we’re in Germany we can go exploring, just me and you.”

“Sounds great,” Max smiled, “I’m not letting you give me directions though.”

“We end up on the border to France one time and you won’t get over it!” Charles said, shaking his head jokily.

“We were eleven and only had our bikes, Charles. We could’ve died.” Max reminded him. 

The Twins looked at each other and laughed. Okay yeah, that had been a really bad thing that happened but in Charles' defence, he was eleven. And a complete idiot at reading roadsigns. 

“Hey, I got us home. You want to be glad.”

“You stole someone’s phone!” Max laughed, pushing Charles away from him and punching him in the side lightly.

Charles let out a yelp and pressed his hands to his ribs.

“Ouch you little hoebag, take it back!” Charles said, knocking Max’s shoulder playfully to try and keep himself from doubling over at the pain in his side.

“But you know I’m right!”

“We all make mistakes!” Charles hissed but the grin on his face took away from his mock-anger. 

“What can I get you, Charlie?” The barman said once Charles approached, dragging his attention away from Max. 

“Whatever you’d recommend, babe,” Charles flirted, dropping his elbows onto the bar and grinning coquettishly at him. 

Max awkwardly started to shuffle beside him. He’d never been confident at these events, wearing a suit felt unnatural to him and he’d always stick to Charles’ side like glue, the two of them using each other to get through the event. But now, Max almost seemed uncomfortable to be in Charles’ presence. And as much as Charles wanted to keep his brother with him, he knew that he'd be spending the night fighting for Max's attention when Daniel was stood on the other side of the room, looking like a God carved from marble, and Charles didn't want to end up fighting for his brother's attention when he'd already lost it a long time before. 

“Go to Daniel...” Charles murmured, shoving Max slightly. 

“No, it’s fine, I can wait for you.”

“Just go find him, Max, it’s okay,” Charles smiled turning back to the bar and taking the whiskey from the Barman. It wasn't okay. But Max couldn't know that. 

Charles really wished he could remember what the barman was called instead of just calling him The Barman. Oh well. Mistakes happen and sometimes those mistakes give you expensive whiskey for free. 

Max lingered for a moment before walking back off. Charles wondered what he had to do to get his family to actually ask him properly what was wrong. If Max said ‘yeah I’m fine’, they’d keep grilling him, almost wanting receipts to prove that he was ‘fine’ and there wasn’t something more going wrong. Charles could barely get anything past a ‘yeah I’m fine’ before his family were ignoring him and acting as though he wasn’t acting any differently to normal. 

If Charles could see the distinct change in his own behaviour, why could his family not?

Why could Max not?

Was he that blinded by love that all he saw was Daniel and himself? Was Charles seriously that unimportant?

_It’s because you’re unlovable. He’s not going to put his effort into the most unlovable person on the planet. Remember, he was the one that told you that. He doesn’t actually give a shit about you._

Charles took another swig of his drink, distracting himself from his own thoughts by focusing on the thick amber liquid warming him. 

“Evening, Charles,” one of his Dad’s co-workers said, nudging Charles slightly and winking at him in a way that almost felt perverse considering Charles knew this man was close to 50 whilst Charles wasn’t even a legal adult yet. 

“Evening, Sir.”

“How are you, my favourite young man?”

“Good, thanks. How are you?”

“Very well, thank you, Charles. Your father around?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Ah, yes, I see him now, showing off Max to our new partners. Your brother is amazing, isn’t he? You must all be very proud of him. A shame he’s not following your father into the field, he’s an amazing talent.”

“Very proud,” Charles smiled awkwardly. Even when it wasn’t about Max, Max was always still the centre of fucking attention. 

And then the little shit wondered why people hate him.

“Very well, Charles. I shall go and catch up with your fathers. Have a good evening, young man.”

“And you, Sir.” 

Charles slumped onto the bar, running his hands through his hair and pushing his now empty glass back towards the barman. 

“Another, please.”

“You good, kid? You don’t look good.”

“Tired,” Charles admitted. 

Not tired physically, he’d slept fine. It was more that he was starting to get tired of it always being about Max all the time. He was tired of always being associated with his family. Now he’d sent the application off, he wanted it in his hands. He wanted to be the family success for a change. 

Not that Sebastian would brag about these achievements. Charles wasn’t that lucky. 

“Your Dad wants you.” The Barman said, nodding over to where Sebastian was trying to get Charles’ attention as he ran a cloth around a glass. “Here, have some liquid courage before you go and deal with Mr Fancy Pants.”

He slid a shot glass across to Charles, winking at him in a way that wasn’t as perverse but more conspiratory. 

Charles smiled thankfully and knocked the shot back, grimacing momentarily as the vodka hit the back of his throat painfully. It had only been a month since he’d last partied with vodka, but in that short time, Charles had forgotten how spiky vodka hit. He’d missed it. 

The partying gave him a chance to lower his inhibitions and be free. And having people clamour trying to get his attention definitely didn’t hurt either. There was a certain level of catharsis to having people almost fight to be the one to sleep with him. It made him feel liberated, important, special. Deep down, Charles knew he was nothing more than a body for them. As much as people at school gave him shit for sleeping around, he didn’t see any of them denying themselves the opportunity to be the ones to get naked with him. Everyone wanted him. 

But he only wanted art school. 

Charles reluctantly trudged over to Sebastian. He still hadn’t seen that Charles wasn’t wearing his shirt yet, and he’d successfully hid the whole wearing his trainers debacle from him by being the one to lock up the house. 

Luckily there was a man talking to Seb and Kimi, his brothers stood beside him with Max clutching onto Daniel’s hand like a lifeline. The man had his back to Charles, and so when he got close enough, he awkwardly held his hands out to slide past the man, dropping into his place in between Max and Valtteri. 

Sebastian glared at him when he saw Charles’ state of dress, but Charles quickly averted his eyes, looking down and nervously playing with the sleeve of his blazer. Sebastian wasn’t about to kick off at him now, not in front of this man and most importantly not in front of his work colleagues. You didn’t get to be the great Sebastian Vettel by not being able to control and win, and Charles had committed the ultimate sin by denying him the opportunity to control Charles’ clothing options. 

A small voice in his head reminded Charles that he needed this, he needed to control himself to stop himself from getting lost. He couldn’t get lost in other people. 

“Boys, this is Michael. He taught me law at university, grafted me incredibly hard,” Sebastian said, motioning to the man and smirking at him. The man, Michael, laughed back.

“You needed it. Your essay on international law is still a model answer, even now my students are still expected to work to your standard. You were the best student I had, Sebastian.”

“I distinctly remember that being an essay I helped you write, Sebastian. Where’s my First in International Law, hm? Why was I not a co-author?” Kimi said, squeezing Sebastian’s hand and making Sebastain violently shush him. 

“Something to tell me, Seb?” Michael said, laughing, “Should I report you for plagiarism?”

“Anyway!” Sebastian said, his voice going playfully high to drag the conversation away from that day. The day that his dads had met each other. 

So it was this man’s fault that his Dads were a thing. This man who had led a series of events that would eventually see Charles and his brother get adopted by two people that they needed most in the world. It was all this man. This Michael. Michael was the reason Charles had a family.

“These are my three boys. Valtteri and our twins Max and Charles. And this is Max’s boyfriend, Daniel.” Sebastian introduced, each boy shaking Sebastian’s friend’s hand in turn. 

Daniel had Michael laughing at the cheeky grin he always had plastered across his face and the way he winked at Max to make him blush. But Charles couldn’t focus. 

There was something about this man that was so intensely familiar, but Charles just couldn’t place it. The more he stared at the man that had given him his life, the more Charles distracted himself. Who the hell was this man? Charles could’ve sworn he’d seen those eyes somewhere else before. 

“Close in age, aren’t they?”

“About a month and a half between Valtteri and the twins,” Sebastian confirmed. 

“Must’ve kept you busy when they were little kids then.”

Sebastian and Kimi looked at each other, and Michael laughed. 

“That look tells me everything.”

Whilst the men continued to chat about Valtteri and adopting Max and Charles, Max turned away to curl into Daniel, his hands coming up to rest against Daniel's chest and play with the lapels of his blazer, whilst Daniel had his hands pressed to the small of Max’s back, comfortingly running his thumbs back and forth. Valtteri vanished off, citing something about going looking for a drink but with the way he was looking at his phone, Charles bet that he was probably going off to text someone. 

These events had always been boring. Since Dad had been made senior partner back when they were barely ten years old, they’d been to a lot of these events. But Charles always had at least a _fine_ time because he had his twin brother who’d follow him into any havoc he caused and an older brother that would make all the naughty things they got up to mysteriously vanish and never reach their fathers ears. 

But that was different now. 

“It’s the first year they’re grown up enough that they’re bringing dates with them,” Sebastian said, looking proudly over at Daniel and Max who were quietly whispering to each other, entranced in their own little world where the only occupants were themselves. 

“They grow up so fast all of a sudden, don’t they?”

“Most definitely. Sometimes you forget they’re not the little five years climbing into your bed and smacking you with stuffed toys anymore.”

“My son is the same. He’s 16, and I swear he’s going on 30. Way too grown up all of a sudden.”

“Exactly the same as our Max! Always been an old head on young shoulders.”

“I’ll have to introduce him to you. You boys would get along.” Michael said, smiling at Charles when he saw him stood awkwardly alone. 

Charles thought it would at least be fine. Whoever this boy was, he was probably bored out of his mind the exact same as Charles was and that meant he could probably find a way to seduce him enough for a cheeky fuck in the toilets, or at the very least, let Charles get him off.

“Where’s your sister?”

Charles was too busy looking over his shoulder, trying to see where Valtteri had vanished off to, when the voice hit him and a wave of coldness spiralled through him.

“She went to find someone. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr Räikkönen-Vettel.”

“This is Mick. My son.”

Charles slowly turned and audibly gulped.

Oh fuck

Oh no

No no no no no

This wasn’t meant to happen

He wasn’t meant to be here

Charles was meant to be free, be safe from him tonight.

And yet here Mick was, standing in front of Charles and shaking his parents hands like it was the most natural thing in the world. 

“How’s the move been from Germany? Must’ve been a massive change.” Sebastian asked Mick, and suddenly all the pieces started to fall into place.

“It is, but when Dad told us about the opportunity you’ve given him Mr Räikkönen-Vettel, we knew it would be cruel to deny him this. And we’re all very, very proud of him.” Mick grinned happily, but Charles could see the underlying anger and disgust at Sebastian. 

This was why Mick hated his family. Sebastian had enticed Michael over from Germany with whatever he had, and Mick had been forced to up and leave behind everything he knew and loved. His friends, his school, his home. 

It was all gone. 

He’d swapped Germany and happiness for England and anger. 

And Charles was the one paying the price for it. 

For something so small, so minute, but to Mick it had been the end of the world. Charles had never known why Mick hated his family, and yet here it was, the root cause was the fact that Seb had managed to offer him a better job in England. Teaching at a university, if Charles' memory of what Antonio had told him so long ago served him correctly. 

A fucking job and Charles was paying the ultimate price for it. 

What the actual fuck was wrong with Mick that he felt the need to batter someone because he was upset his Dad got a promotion?

“I’m going to get a drink,” Charles mumbled, trying to dive away but his Dad caught him by the arm, pressing his fingers unknowingly into the bruises Mick had left there only hours before.

Mick grinned at Charles’ flinch. 

“No alcohol,” Sebastian said in his ear, “I mean it. You have school tomorrow.”

Charles nodded and pulled his arm free. He didn’t want a drink anyway, he only needed an excuse to leave and be out of Mick’s presence now that he was busy waxing poetic and spinning lies about how wonderful everything was, pulling Charles' parents under his spell of being the angel that he was, when in reality Charles knew he was a dangerous con-artist. Charles couldn’t stand there and listen as Mick said all the great things he did, and how much he loved being here. Not when Charles knew the truth. The only thing Mick loved was painting Charles in such a way that classic artists would’ve fought over him. 

Charles wondered if he could find a way to create clothes that helped to protect you against assault. Maybe that’s something _they_ could help him with. He knew there was certain materials that had a kind of deflection quality to them, but if he could find a way to incorporate them seamlessly into the clothes people wore every day, he’d do it. 

Never had he anticipated his life goal would be to save people from abuse. But if Charles needed it, there was countless other people that needed it too. 

Charles circled for a while. Music was playing and there was a dance floor where people were dancing with their partners or swapping out to dance with their friend’s partners. Sebastian and Kimi were stood to the side, Kimi’s arm around Sebastian’s waist, drinks in their hands (no doubt on planning to get Valtteri to drive home tonight) as they spoke quietly with a handful of people and watched Daniel twirl Max around the floor. His brother and Daniel only had eyes for each other, giggling to one another as Daniel would pull Max close, brushing his fingers over the redness of his cheeks and smiling at the glistening in his eyes. 

Ice blue met dark malt. 

Happiness met love. 

Charles leaned his head against the pillar he was hiding behind, looking down at his shoes and flicking a straw back and forth, running it under his foot as he tried to distract himself. 

It wasn’t that he was bored. He was lonely. 

He’d forgotten how to be his own person. He was always someone else. Always Max’s brother or Charles Räikkönen-Vettel at school. He was never just _Charles_. What did it mean to embrace yourself for who you are when in actuality Charles had no idea who he was? He was an art kid, the resident school slut, a disappointment, the pretty one. None of that, however, encapsulated Charles as a person. They were all characteristics of him. He wanted to be a person. 

And for the first time in a long while, Charles wanted his Dad. 

He wanted his Dad to hug him and Charles wanted to tell him. It was hurting bottling it all in now. He needed to tell his Dad. 

_Daddy’s got you, baby, you’re going to be okay, you’re coming home now_

The words of Sebastian echoed in his head, words he’d said to Charles when he was nearly five years old, a child who was lost and scared and terrified to lose his brother, and yet when Sebastian had hugged him tightly on his hip and carried him out to the car so he and Max could go home for the first time as their actual children, Charles felt safe. He’d sobbed the entire time. But he was safe. And Max was there too. 

He wanted that back. He wanted his Dad to hold him and hug him and make everything bad go away. 

Dad would fix it. 

Charles rubbed his hands over his face and took a shaky breath. He had to go and get his Dad and he knew his voice was going to crack but he needed him. Dad would make all the bad things go away, because his Dad was magic. He was amazing. 

Charles was a brat but he loved his Dads and he didn’t tell them enough. 

After tonight he would. He’d tell his Dad and he’d help Charles fix things. Charles needed him to fix things because he was so lost and scared and he was drowning. Dad would pull him back up to safety. He always did. 

It was going to be okay.

Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sounds hopeful, right?
> 
> you should all know by now I don't let things go happy for this boy. 
> 
> bad things to come tomorrow
> 
> (also that ending up on the border to another country thing is genuinely something that happened to a friend of mine, only she had a dog to take her home😂)
> 
> kudos, comments and feedback always appreciated💛
> 
> Tumblr is at 3303andmore if you want to shout at me😉💛


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **CONTENT WARNING: SEXUAL ASSAULT, NON-CONSENSUAL TOUCHING, DEROGATORY LANGUAGE**
> 
> IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO SKIP THE SEXUAL ASSAULT IT STARTS AT: _It was only when Charles felt his hips being dragged back that he realised Mick had moved._  
>  So you can do a search for _'And then Charles was dropping to the floor.'_ which is where the assault finishes.  
> The assault is somewhat graphic, but Mick is extremely uncomfortable to Charles and does not listen to him. Mick makes a lot of inappropriate commentary but a lot of Charles through it will be him having an internal breakdown. 
> 
> But yeah, this is going to be very rough and Charles is going to have a lot of self-blame and guilt. So please make sure that if this is not a topic you are okay with reading about, skip this chapter and send me a message on Tumblr (3303andmore) / comment down below and I can do you a summary of the chapter. 
> 
> My priority is making sure readers are safe and comfortable and if you are not in a position where you think you are able to read this, skip it. I would never want anyone to be triggered/upset by this, and you being safe is my priority. 
> 
> :)

Charles walked tentatively over to his Dad. He’d never been good at talking to them. He was terrible at talking to Max half the time because he'd stutter and get confused with the way his own brain tried to tell stories but he'd get it out in the end because Max was Max, he understood Charles' brain. But this was different. He was talking to his Dad because he needed his Dad to save him. 

Dad loved him still. Sure, Charles made a lot of mistakes and he was a fucking idiot half the time. He’d done a lot of stupid shit and he knew that he was the prominent reason for his Dads going grey. He was a stressful little shit at the best of times. But Charles had to change that. 

He needed to change it because he couldn’t be alone anymore. It was killing him. 

It wasn’t a phase of him being quiet to try and change his behaviour at school. 

It was him being quiet because he felt like he wasn’t important anymore. 

Charles walked up behind the group, about to open his mouth to say ‘excuse me’ and squeeze through to his Dad, when he realised his Dad was in the middle of a conversation with these people and Charles had to wait. 

It didn't matter. It wasn’t like it was important. Charles could wait. He wasn’t the important one. He never was. It’s okay. 

“How’s the boys university searching going? They all considering it?”

“Yeah, Val sent in his application this morning actually, so that’s one down. He’s hoping somewhere south-west, far enough for some independence but close enough that he can still come home,” Sebastian explained.

“No doubt so he can raid the fridge and get you to do his washing.” Someone else joked which had them all laugh. Charles even cracked a smile. He hoped so. As much as he didn’t really have a bond with Valtteri, he’d still miss his oldest brother like crazy when he actually left. 

“Oh no doubt, he’s a smart boy after all, he knows how to play the system. Then we’ve got countless open days with Max planned for once we’re back from winter break. He’s starting to narrow down where he wants to go, and he’ll start his personal statement within the next few months ready to get sent off come September. He wants to try and get some work experience first apparently.”

“And Charles? Will he be doing the same? It must be strange the idea of having all the boys at home and within a year and a half they’ll all be off at uni.”

“None of us are expecting Charles to go to a university. He’s not the studious type. He probably won’t even bother, he’s more interested in art, like Kimi.”

Charles didn’t stick around to hear the rest, scampering away and running to the bathrooms without his parents noticing he’d even been nearby.

Charles slammed himself into a toilet cubicle and sunk down, biting his lip as hard as he could. He was alone in the bathrooms as far as he could tell, and yet Charles couldn’t let the tears go. 

To hear it when he was at home, in his own house surrounded by his family (and probably Daniel, let’s be honest, there seemed to be barely any time that he wasn’t there) that he probably wasn’t good enough to go to university hurt but it was a whatever. It was their home, Max and he said worse things to each other all the time anyway. But to hear his Dad admit it to the people he worked with, to talk shit about Charles when he wasn’t there to defend himself and convince anyone that he was good enough, it hurt. 

No scratch that. 

It was heartbreaking. 

Of course Charles knew that his Dad didn’t want him to apply to art school. Fine. Whatever. But he was talented and he tried his best and maybe his best wasn’t the standard his Dad wanted, but it never would be. Not when you’re Max’s little brother. But Charles wanted to figure things out and he could go to an art school. Just because he wasn’t studious it didn’t mean he didn’t still have the skills universities wanted to get him there. His grades weren’t the best, but he was consistently keeping his academic subjects at a B which was the highest he’d ever been able to achieve without Max’s divine intervention. And it was all because his teachers believed in his ability to apply to one of the best fashion design courses on the planet. 

The minute someone started listening to him, Charles was shining. His Dad didn’t see the A* grades he was getting in textiles and art. He wouldn’t look at them. To only achieve B’s in French and English when you were comparing him against Max and Valtteri didn’t seem like much. But Charles was thriving in the more vocational subjects, and yet it still wasn’t enough to convince his dad that Charles could go to university. 

Maybe he shouldn’t talk to his Dad. 

His Dad didn’t understand Charles.

No one understood Charles. 

Even when he’d tried to get through to Max and have his brother pay attention to him, Max had only half paid attention and used the other half of his energy to try and get back to Daniel. Charles never thought he’d have to fight someone for Max’s attention, and he couldn’t even _fight_ Daniel because Max needed him. Daniel was the best thing to ever come into Max’s life and Charles wanted nothing more than to rip him away. 

Part of Charles wished Daniel had never asked his freak of a brother out. If he hadn’t, everything would still be normal. Max would be quietly suffering and, sure, he’d be alone, but Charles would still have a brother. He wanted nothing more than to get his brother back and have his life back to how it had been at the start of year 12. Charles knew how to manage that. He didn’t know how to manage the disappointment that Sebastian talked about his art dreams with. 

Charles just wanted to be happy and dream and make art and make clothes and make people smile and feel a million dollars in something that he made. 

Why was that not enough?

Why was Charles not enough?

Why did his Dad not believe in him anymore?

Charles pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes until he was seeing explosions of fireworks behind his eyes. The stark whiteness cutting through the darkness was almost reminding Charles that he had to keep going. 

Even if no one else believed in him, Charles believed in himself. 

He’d given up so much the last couple months to protect Max, and he wasn’t going to let that go to shit all because he’d had a moment of weakness. It was time to toughen up and stop letting this shit dictate him. He wasn’t going to let Sebastian win and he wasn’t going to let Mick win either. Charles was going to find himself and he was going to prove all these fuckers wrong. 

When he got into the London College of Fashion, they’d all be fucking sorry. 

It was like he’d punched himself in the face with the force of his startling realisation. Charles had this. He had to do this. He’d believe in himself whilst everyone else left him behind. It was dark and painful and Charles wasn’t sure how this was going to end, but there was a light at the end of the tunnel and he’d get there. He’d keep fighting for himself. He had to. No one else was going to do it for him. 

Charles dragged his phone out of his pocket and flicked through it until he got to the UCAS Tracking page. The page that would tell him the progress of his application. 

There it was, in a startling orange box. 

_Waiting for decision  
London College of Fashion_

This was why he was doing it. Charles had to get there and he had to find a way to protect himself from all the shit that went through his life if it just meant he’d one day get to walk down the corridors and sit in a class with people that understood what it meant to be in love with the world you created. 

Charles stood up, pulled his blazer sleeves over his hands to wipe at his face and quickly brushed his hands over his body, wiping away the imaginary grime and dirt. 

If he was going to go out there and dominate, he was going to need to feel like he could. And his hands were still shaking and part of him still wanted to break down and sob at the pure rejection he felt from his Dad, but he could do this. 

Charles pushed himself out of the stall. He was still alone. 

First step. 

The barman. 

Charles needed to gain control back over his body and he was going to do that the only way he knew how. 

By getting off with someone that wanted him like crazy. 

He’d seen the lingering looks on the barman’s face, the way he’d dragged his eyes lazily over Charles’ form and smiled slowly at the way that the suit fitted the contours of his body. He wanted Charles and he needed to feel that. He needed someone to give him the gratification he’d hidden himself away from. 

Slowly, Charles meandered his way to the bar, checking briefly over his shoulder what his family was doing. Valtteri was still nowhere in sight, Max was now sat on Daniel’s lap quietly talking amongst themselves with their eyes fixed only on each other, and their Dads were busy socialising far away from the bar. They wouldn’t notice. 

None of them would notice.

Charles wondered if any of them had even noticed he’d vanished off. 

“What can I get you, Charlie-boy?” The barman said as Charles approached. 

Charles looked down, pursed his lips and then slowly looked up, looking up at the barman through his eyelashes and putting on the face that no one was ever able to deny. The look that seemed to exhibit pure innocence but screamed that Charles was down for a good time. 

“Oh, I’ve seen that look before,” He said, grinning at Charles. 

Charles looked side to side, noticing the way everyone was distracted or busy with Barman’s co-worker, not paying attention to either of them. 

“Then I think you know precisely what I want, don’t you?”

“Say it for me, pretty boy.”

Charles barely held in a flinch at the nickname. He’d grown so used to hearing it said in anger from Mick’s voice that Charles forgot what it was like for someone to use it because they actually found him attractive. 

“I seemed to remember last time we hooked up, you said I got you off better than anyone you’d ever had, and you’d be more than happy to show me what a good boy gets in response,” Charles blinked slowly and ran his tongue slowly over his top lip, “Or are you the kind of person that goes back on your promises?”

“For you, Charles? I would never.” The barman promised, holding his finger up to Charles and turning to his co-worker, “Katie, I’m taking my break.”

Katie nodded and Barman quickly walked around to join Charles, pushing him gently in the direction of the bathrooms he’d just excited. 

“Gotta be quick, don’t want your Daddy coming looking.”

“Please don’t talk about my Dad when you’re about to suck my dick,” Charles grimaced. 

Barman laughed and pushed Charles into the cubicle he’d just been in. 

Charles found a weird sense of déjà vu in this. And he wasn’t entirely sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing. 

The door shut behind them and Barman instantly dropped to his knees, moving Charles’ blazer so that he could pull at his belt to undo his trousers. 

“You sure about this, baby?”

“Of course,” Charles nodded, “Never needed anything more.”

The Barman took a moment to look up at Charles, searching for something in his eyes. 

“Talk to people, kid, it’s important.”

“Don’t call me kid,” Charles knocked his hand against Barman’s head, distracting him from talking about Charles’ inevitable issues and focusing him back on the task at hand. 

It seemed to do the job as Charles threaded his fingers into Barman’s thick hair and encouraged him back to focusing on getting Charles off. He pulled Charles’ trousers down to his mid-thigh, and thankfully didn’t spot any of the bruises riding high on his legs. 

Charles would’ve said the whole thing was over embarrassingly quickly, but Barman was _really good_ and Charles had to admit that his mind was more than a little distracted. Barman tucked Charles back in once he was done, but didn’t bother to tuck in Charles’ t-shirt again, instead leaving it brushing against his waistband. 

“That make you feel a bit better?” Barman asked.

Charles almost felt embarrassed by the fact that he had to look away and bite his lip. 

Barman pressed his hand against Charles’ jaw and gently lifted it to make Charles look at him. 

“You’re brilliant, and whatever’s going on, you have people that care about you. You deserve good things, Charles.” 

Charles wrapped his arms around the barman’s waist and screwed his eyes shut. The Barman silently hugged him back, holding Charles tightly against him and resting his cheek against the fluff of Charles’ hair. 

“Thank you,” Charles quietly said. 

The Barman ran his fingers over the short hairs at the back of Charles’ head.

“No problem, we should get going, anyway. Your family are probably worrying about you.”

“I doubt they’ll have noticed,” Charles mumbled into his shoulder, “Thanks for a great blowjob anyway.”

Barman laughed and pressed a small kiss to Charles’ temple. 

“You’re going to be alright, Charles.”

Charles looked up and smiled. It was nice to have someone embrace him and tell him he was going to be okay when it genuinely did not feel like it ever would be okay, but Barman seemed to believe in him which was basically all Charles needed. 

“Jamie,” He whispered in Charles’ ear, laughing at the way Charles’ mouth formed a perfect ‘o’ as he remembered that this was the Barman’s name. 

“Jamie…yes... that’s it. I remember now.”

The barman laughed and shook his head. 

“I’ll see you around, Charles.”

“See you around, Jamie,” Charles replied cheekily. Jamie. Yeah, he wasn’t going to remember that. 

Jamie left after that, leaving Charles to finish adjusting himself in the cubicle. Charles grinned to himself. As much as he’d also got distracted by Jamie the Barman’s great mouth, he’d also been stuck thinking about his future at the same time. This was step one in moving on to finding himself in the future. That’s all he needed. 

Charles stumbled out of the cubicle and immediately pulled himself to stand tall when he realised Mick was lounging back against the bathroom door. Mick had his arms crossed over his chest and his leg bent so his foot was flat against the door, holding it shut from anyone else entering. 

“Evening Charles.”

“Evening.” Charles nodded, moving forward to the sink to give himself something to do because he doubted Mick was going to move out of the way so that Charles could leave. 

“It’s funny you know,” Mick said, staring at Charles in the mirror.

“What is?” Charles muttered as he washed his hands. 

“The fact that you’re an absolute slut and yet people are still willing to suck your dick.”

“Well that’s not a very nice thing to call someone.”

“Well you’re not a very nice boy, are you?” Mick muttered.

Charles looked up at his reflection in the mirror and rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything more. His gaze was focused back on his hands before he could give it a second thought. 

It was only when Charles felt his hips being dragged back that he realised Mick had moved. 

“What the hell are you doing? Get the fuck off me.” Charles struggled, hitting back with his elbows and trying to dislodge Mick’s grip from his hips.

“C’mon, you’ll sleep with anyone. You’re not going to say no.”

“I’m saying no! Get the hell off me you bastard.”

Mick pulled one hand so it was up around Charles’ neck and the other dipped to catch his belt, running his fingers just lightly enough that they caught under the edge of his t-shirt and ran temptingly across his skin.

Only it wasn’t temptingly and Charles couldn’t breathe. 

And he it wasn't that he felt unable to breath because of Mick's hand on his neck. 

Suddenly he was really regretting not listening to his Dad and wearing the shirt. Then he wouldn’t be able to feel his dirty fingers touching Charles’ skin.

“You’re a slut. You fuck anyone that looks at you without a second thought, and now you’re being frigid? No. You’re mine. I made that clear.” Mick drawled.

Charles bit the inside of his lip, refusing to let tears fall or let Mick see him scared. 

“Don’t. Please.”

“Oh yeah, beg for it, baby, I know it’s what you want.”

Mick grabbed Charles’ hair and pulled it, ripping it to one side so that the long line of Charles’ pale neck was exposed to him. 

Charles whined and tried to pull away, but the movements made it seem as though he was pushing himself back onto Mick instead. 

“Knew you’d get into it, you’re so easy.”

“Please stop,” Charles whispered, screwing his eyes shut so that he couldn’t see what Mick was doing to him. 

The feel of his lips against Charles’ neck was like slime and he wanted to scream but all the air had been sucked out of him. He was trapped in a vicious chamber were the only out was letting Mick hurt him. 

He could take the physical abuse. 

He could take the verbal abuse.

He couldn’t take this. 

Every time Charles had sex or did anything remotely sexual, it was on his terms. Consent was the most important thing in the world and Charles couldn’t count the amount of times that either they or he had said no, or he could tell that the other person wasn’t actually into it and wanted to stop. And he always did. Charles may sleep around, but he was so careful to make sure that sex was enjoyed by everyone involved and he always made his expectations that someone should tell him if they wanted to stop clear. 

So why did Mick not have the same morals?

There was a difference between battery and sexually assaulting someone. Charles didn’t like it but he consented to Mick punching him because it kept Max safe. He never agreed to Mick stealing Charles’ ability to control his own body. 

“Mick please,” He begged again, trying to pull himself free but then Mick’s arm went around his throat instead of just his hands and Charles’ eyes flung open. He wasn’t compressing Charles’ throat at all, but Charles knew how much danger that arm held and he was terrified. 

Was this it?

Was this how Mick finally won? 

Charles broke down, tears falling from his eyes as he tried to pull himself away, his whole body shaking violently as he silently sobbed. 

“Oh, grow up you whore,” Mick hissed, “You want to be glad I’m doing this. You’re an unlovable, stupid, pointless little boy and this world would be better without sluts like you in it. I’m doing you a favour, reminding you that you should be so lucky that a real man would still want a damaged fucker like you.”

Charles screwed his eyes shut again and wanted nothing more than to press his hands over his ears and stop Mick’s words from filtering through. 

“Stop…” Charles whimpered. But Mick didn’t listen. 

He dipped his fingers lower into his trousers, running dangerously close to catching underneath his boxer shorts. 

“I’m not stopping, babe, I don’t listen to dirty little whores,” Mick said, biting the lobe of Charles’ ear. 

Normally it would have Charles writhing in pleasure, but this time it was the wrong end of the spectrum and white-hot pain flashed through his body. Charles wanted to scream again. 

His lungs were as empty as he felt. 

There was nothing but shame and embarrassment coursing through him and Charles hated himself with every fibre of his being. He’d brought this on himself. 

“Everyone at school warned me about you. They said ‘there’s the genius and then his whore of a brother, but be careful, because the whore has probably got the clap’. Is that true, Charlie? Have you got riddled with diseases?”

Charles wanted to scream, to shove Mick and tell him Charles was clean, that he’d never had a single STD in his life. But moving his body was like asking him to lift a twelve tonne truck with just his pinkie finger. 

Charles looked at himself in the mirror. Mick was nothing more than a blur whilst the empty expression on Charles' face was the focal point of his pain. 

Mick spun Charles around in his arms, pressing him into the sinks to the point that Charles knew there was going to be a strong line of bruises at his lower back. He closed his eyes again so that he couldn’t see the danger looking back at him, couldn’t see how pleased Mick was with himself for being the one to tear him apart by kissing him. Charles jumped when he felt Mick’s lips against his own, trying to pull his lips into his mouth to stop Mick from touching him but it didn’t work when Mick pulled at Charles’ hair again and he had no choice but to gasp in pain and Mick took the opportunity to kiss Charles properly despite his insistent protests.

He could feel Mick’s other hand going lower and his fingers run across him where he'd never consented, but Charles’ brain couldn’t acknowledge it. All he could acknowledge was the knowledge that he’d finally stooped _that low_. His Dad was right. 

He was always right. 

Charles would never amount to anything. He’d never be anything but a warm body for someone to use.

Why did Charles think he was good enough to apply to the London College of Fashion? They only accepted the best and if he couldn’t even fight his way out of this, how was he even meant to survive by himself at university? The answer was he couldn’t. 

He needed his brothers and his dads and right now Charles was really wishing that he had that twin-telepathy so he could get Max to come and save him. He’d admit everything ten-fold over if it just meant that it would all stop, that Mick's hand would stop twisting against him and Charles would be able to finally have autonomy back. 

And then Charles was dropping to the floor. He narrowly avoided smacking his head off the sinks when someone’s arms caught him and Charles could finally muster up the courage to scream and push himself away. 

“Don’t touch me!” He screamed, sobs echoing through the bathroom as Charles pushed himself as close as he could into the right-angle between the sinks ending and the wall. He pulled his t-shirt down as far as it could go and wrapped his arms around himself, pulling his legs into himself and burying his face. 

Charles couldn’t hear anything but the blood roaring through his ears, a crimson waterfall that he hated. 

He was drowning in himself. 

If he thought he’d lost himself earlier, he’d was now stuck in the depths of a universe that Charles didn’t like and all he’d gotten out of it was confirmation that he was a stupid little boy who needed validation from people that didn’t want him for anything more than sex. 

Mick had called him unlovable. 

But it still didn’t smack him as hard as when Max had called him unlovable. 

And yet that _freak_ got everything. 

So maybe he was right. 

Maybe Charles was nothing more an unlovable freak. 

It had never been Max that was the freak. 

It was Charles.

Max was a clever, amazing, loved and cared for person. 

What was Charles?

A stupid kid who was crying on the floor in a fancy Gala’s bathroom and sobbing because no one would ever love him and no one would ever listen to him and no one would ever believe in him. 

“Charles, hey, it’s okay, Mick’s gone, it’s just me and you, man.”

Charles looked up and even through eyes that were clogged with tears and his heart was threatening to pound its way out of his chest, Charles could make out the blurry shape of dark skin and short curly hair and a burgundy suit that he knew belonged to someone most familiar to him. 

“Please leave me alone Lewis.”

“I’m not leaving you buddy, I can go and get your brothers or you dads if you-”

“DON’T YOU DARE!” Charles screamed, “Don’t you fucking dare tell them, I’ll fucking run, don’t you dare, they don’t need to know please don’t Lewis I’m begging you just don’t tell my brothers I can’t I can’t have them know, I need to keep them safe please don’t please.”

Charles’ speech was becoming mumbled as he frantically tried to suck air into his lungs but his panic was stopping him.

 _“I’m going to die Charles,”_ Max’s voice wailed in his ears. 

_“I wish I could make it go away”_ Charles could hear himself saying back. Suddenly he was out of the grotty Gala toilets and he was back in the language corridor in school, wrapping his arms around Max and holding him tightly to try and save him. 

Oh how badly Charles wanted Max right now. 

But he couldn’t have him. 

Max couldn’t do crisis management. And if he saw Charles freaking out and crying, Max would definitely freak out and cry and Charles couldn’t have that. He needed to protect him, that’s what this was all about. Keeping Max safe and keeping Max happy. 

“I’m not going to do anything you don’t want, Charles, it’s okay,” Lewis placatingly told him, pushing himself to sit down cross-legged opposite Charles. “Do you want me to touch you at all, or not?”

Charles shook his head frantically. 

“Please don’t.”

“That’s okay, I need to know so we can establish boundaries and how to help you. What do you want me to do, Charles?”

“Don’t leave me,” He whimpered. If Charles kept his eyes fixed on Lewis, then he couldn’t drown. Lewis wouldn’t let him down because Lewis wouldn’t want to upset Valtteri.

Would Valtteri even care?

“Valtteri would, he adores you and Max. You know he's just shit at showing his feelings,” Lewis told him. Charles hadn’t realised he’d been speaking his thoughts. 

“Do you need some help breathing?”

Charles shook his head. As much as everything hurt, he was slowly able to control his own breathing and there was no black spots in his vision so he knew he’d be okay. 

He just felt so fucking dirty. 

And Mick hadn’t even-

“What Mick did to you is assault, Charles. The second he put his hands on you and didn’t stop when you said no is assault. It doesn’t matter what he did. It’s assault. It’s not okay. Do not justify it to yourself as being anything less.”

“He wouldn’t stop, Lewis, I tried, I really tried.”

“I know you did, little one. Mick’s gone now, so you take as long as you need to calm down and then we’ll get your brother to take you home, okay? I know Max is tired anyway.”

“I don’t want them to know,” he whispered pathetically, “I can’t, Lewis.”

“I won’t tell them. I think you should talk to them, but if you’re not ready, you’re not ready. Go at your pace, Charles. You’ve had something horrifically shit happen to you, the least you can do is protect yourself first.”

Charles shakily lifted his hand and held it out for Lewis for take hold of. Whilst the idea of having someone’s arms around him actually terrified him and Charles couldn’t stomach the idea of being hugged by anyone right now, Lewis was looking at him like a big brother should and Charles felt safe in his presence. 

“If I tell them, can you help?” Charles tentatively asked as he scrubbed his face to brush away the tears. 

“I’ll be there,” Lewis promised, “Your family mean a lot to me, Charles, and I know they wouldn’t want you to be going through this alone.”

“I can’t talk to them right now,” Charles said, his voice catching as more tears broke through his carefully constructed barriers to stream down his face. 

“You talk to them when you’re ready, man. Don’t rush anything. Keep yourself safe first.” 

Charles nodded and let out another mighty sigh. 

All this because he'd bottled on asking his Dad for help in keeping him safe. 

Charles may have felt betrayed by his Dad saying he probably wouldn’t go to uni, but he’d take that any day in comparison to what he felt now. 

It was horrible and Charles hated it. 

He needed it to just go away. 

He needed everything to go away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was rough and Charles is going to struggle, and it's not a fun time at all
> 
> Also, some of the things Charles thinks/'hears' from Seb will be addressed. I'm aware I'm very much painting him to be a bad guy but I promise all will make sense in time. 
> 
> Comments, kudos and feedback always greatly appreciated. 
> 
> As always, Tumblr is at 3303andmore if you need to come and have a chat. My messages are always open.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **CONTENT WARNINGS: Mentions of the repercussions of abuse**
> 
> Nothing too heavy, just Charles being a sad boi after what happened

Charles hung off Lewis’ side, his arm around Lewis’ shoulders and Lewis’ arm around his waist, dragging him through the Gala to find Max and Daniel. To any onlooker, it would appear as though Lewis was playing the part of a dutiful brother’s friend, taking care of the dumb, impulsive baby of the family. Charles knew he looked drunk, he felt drunk. 

He definitely wasn’t drunk. 

Yes, he’d had a glass of whiskey and a shot, but that had been a couple hours ago and Charles wasn’t a lightweight. He could handle his alcohol. You didn’t party every weekend and sometimes get absolutely blackout drunk without knowing your limits, and Charles’ limits definitely weren’t a couple shots worth of whiskey with only a bit of vodka mixed in. 

“Hey, Dan? Charles needs to go home, are you and Max ready?”

“Is he pissed?” Max said, sighing incredulously at his twin before Daniel got a chance to say anything. 

“Love you, Maxieeeee,” Charles murmured, deliberately falling forward and wrapping his arms around Max’s shoulders in a way that made it seem as though he was drunk. 

“Are you drunk?” Max repeated, pulling Charles up slightly so that he could look him in the eyes.

Charles knew with the pain coursing through him that his eyes would’ve looked unfocused and combining that with the giggling, the mumbling incoherently in a mixture of languages and clutching onto Max as though his life depended on it, he was definitely able to pass off as being more drunk than he actually was. In fact, Charles had never felt more stone-cold sober in his life. 

“Come on,” Max sighed, “We better get you home before Dad sees. He’s going to lose it if he sees you like this.”

Charles smiled and flung his head side to side as he hummed something. If he had to keep everyone believing that the worst thing that had happened to him tonight was that he’d gotten his hands on the alcohol that Sebastian had so vehemently warned him against, Charles had to channel every single dramatic gene in his body and keep it going. 

“I love you Maxy,” Charles whimpered, hugging Max tightly and then abruptly pulling away, “And you Danny, you the best, you got Max happy I like that.”

“Love you too, Charles, but we’re going to take you home, okay? Get you to bed and have a sleep.”

Charles nodded with a drunk grin on his face, looking at Daniel through half-closed eyes. 

“I don’t want you to take me to bed though,” He slurred, “’Cause that’ll make Maxy sad and I don’t want Maxy to be sad.”

“I’ll tuck you in and then go back to Maxy, is that okay?” Daniel negotiated softly. 

Charles saw the frustrated look on Max’s face and made himself whimper.

“Am sorry Maxy, you can have him back!” Charles said, pushing himself away from Daniel and purposefully tried to stumble away. 

“Stop being an idiot,” Max hissed, grabbing hold of Charles’ shoulder and pulling him back. 

If he’d been drunk, he’d definitely have broken down in tears at Max gripping onto the bruises that Mick had decorated him with. However his sobered state kept him logical enough that he was able to hide any indication that Max was slowly breaking him down. 

“Come on, let’s go home, you absolute tool,” Max said, pulling Charles’ arm around his shoulders and starting to pull him to the car. 

Daniel stopped momentarily to grab Charles’ coat from the cloakroom whilst Max nigh-on dragged Charles to Daniel’s car. When they got there, Max opened the backdoor and unceremoniously dumped Charles in. Charles fell sideways, giggling to himself as Max manhandled him to sit up and wrestle the seatbelt around him. 

“You don’t make my life easy, do you, Charles?”

Charles wondered if Max would’ve still said that had he known that Charles was currently sacrificing everything to make Max’s life easier. He was destroying himself to make Max happy and Max's life easier. And all he was getting in return was a frustrated family and bruises across his skin. 

“I try to help you,” Charles whimpered, curious to see what Max would do with that admission. 

“You really don’t,” Max replied, “You argue with everyone all the time and then when you don’t get your own way, you get so moody, I don’t get you, Charles.”

Charles knew he could pass himself off as crying because he was drunk, but the actual pain of what Max was saying to him was what really hurt. 

And the tears weren’t him acting anymore. 

He was in actual pain and everything that Mick had done, culminating in what he’d experienced tonight, was almost immeasurable compared to the way Max saw him. 

Everyone had noticed his change in behaviour, had noticed him pulling himself away from everyone, and yet all they saw was him being a moody teenager that was upset because he wasn’t getting his own way. Charles really needed to know what he had to do to get them to realise that his behaviour was a cry for help.

No one saw the real Charles anymore, and he hated it. He hated everything. 

Charles curled into himself when Daniel dropped his coat over him, curling his legs up as well as he could on the backseat and wrapping the coat around him, burying himself into it. 

“I swear he only had one drink.”

“He knows the barman, he probably got way more than just one drink.” Max replied, looking back and seeing Charles with his eyes closed. “I don’t get him, Dan. There’s something going on and he’s just being a fucking brat.”

“I don’t think he is, Maxy. There’s something more going on.”

“He’s hiding shit and then getting upset with anyone that doesn’t do what he wants. It’s so annoying, Dan, I’m tired of having to worry about him all the time.”

Charles let a tear drop but pulled the hood up higher so that he could brush the tears away before Max saw.

“What happens when you go?” Max whispered, dropping his hand to cover Daniel’s over the gearstick.

“It’s still nine months, Max, still a long time until I go to uni, we don’t have to think about that now. That is if I even get offered a place.”

“You’ll get in,” Max brushed him off, “It’s going to be weird not having you around next year.”

“I’ll still be around, Maxy. If UCL want me, I’ll be 20 minutes on the train, and you know you’re always welcome to come and stay at my place.”

“If he continues acting like an idiot I’ll be at yours more than I’ll be at home.”

Charles pulled his hood up over his head and pressed his hands to his ears. He didn’t want to listen to this anymore, didn’t want to hear as Max complained about him as though Charles wasn’t even present anymore. Never before had Charles heard Max talk about him like this, with such disappointment and distaste present in his tone.

Charles knew he hadn’t always been the best to Max, and he’d caused more than his fair share of issues and pain towards Max over the years, caused his brother to have quite a few panic attacks (especially in recent months), but Charles still loved him, still protected him as best as he could. 

“Do you think there is something wrong with him?”

“I have no idea, Max. Charlotte said something to me ages ago and I tried to find out, but nothing ever came of it. I haven’t noticed anything other than he’s just a bit quiet now.”

“He’s such a dick sometimes…” Max muttered. 

“That’s him, Max. He always has been. Why are you surprised?”

“I’m not. I’m just, I’m really tired of having to clean up his mess all the time. Do you know how badly my Dad is going to kill him when he finds out what Charles has done? At the Gala as well. Dad’s going to be so angry.”

“Charles doesn’t get blackout anymore, Max. I think you need to talk to your Dad and tell him what Charles is normally like. Something about all of this doesn’t make sense.”

Charles wanted to scream at them, scream and tell them all the things that were going wrong and the reason why things weren’t making sense. Nothing was making sense because Charles’ mind didn’t make sense anymore. He was doing the unthinkable to keep Max safe and all Max was stuck on was that this was the first time in many weeks that Charles had touched a drop of alcohol and he was already annoyed. How often did Max actually feel like this? How often did he think that Charles was nothing more than an annoying brat of a little brother who only focused on himself? 

Charles wanted to break down, to beg Max for help and tell Max all the ways that he was the one finally cleaning up his own mess. He hadn’t slept around for weeks. He hadn’t drunk alcohol for weeks. His academic grades were finally up for the first time in his life on his own accord. Charles was trying to be a better person and yet none of that was even recognised. And it was all because he’d made his brother think he was drunk. 

If this was how Max reacted to Charles being ‘drunk’, he dreaded to think what kind of mess Max would’ve guessed he’d dragged himself into with Mick. And if his Dads found out, Charles bet that they’d assume he was making it up, that he had enjoyed it and was just trying to cause problems. 

He wasn’t and he hadn’t. 

Charles felt so insanely dirty and horrible and disgusting and he wanted to rip his skin apart and stop the feeling of Mick’s fingers running across his skin from ever being there. 

And then the car was driving across gravel and stopped moving. 

Charles kept his eyes shut as Max and Daniel climbed out, barely managing to hide the fact that his cheeks were stained with the tears of his brother’s hatred towards him etching their way onto him like he was nothing more than a piece of stained glass, effortlessly being scarred in the smallest of ways. 

“Continue à être saoul,” Charles whispered to himself as Daniel started to pull him out. Neither of them spoke French, and Charles thought he was safe. 

He never saw the flash of worry that Max and Daniel exchanged. 

“Come on, Charles, let’s get you to bed, buddy,” Daniel said, lifting Charles into his arms and encouraging the lithe teenager to wrap his limbs around Daniel like he was a koala so he could carry him into the house. 

Max was a couple of steps ahead, Charles’ coat in his hands, unlocking the door and helping Daniel into the house. Charles rested his head against Daniel’s shoulder, breathing in his warm, vanilla scent. 

He understood why Max spent so much of his time in Daniel’s arms. Charles had never felt so safe. Daniel had this aura about him that screamed he’d keep you safe, would help you and guide you, and Charles wanted to never let go. 

The last time he’d felt this safe was when he’d been small, cuddled in between his parents in their bed as rain hammered against the windows and the clouds were fighting in the sky, erupting with noise and light. Charles had tried not to cry, but when his Daddy had wrapped his arms around Charles and told him he’d always look after him, seven year old Charles had sobbed harder than ever before and clutched on as tightly as he could. His Daddy always promised he’d keep them safe. 

And now it was Charles paying the ultimate price to keep his Golden Boy safe. 

It was only when Charles felt himself being dropped onto his bed that he realised Max would probably try to change him into his pyjamas. And he couldn’t have that. Max would leave his t-shirt on, but he’d pull Charles’ suit trousers off, knowing how uncomfortable they were to sleep in, and inevitably see the bruises snaking up his body. 

“I can get changed,” Charles mumbled sleepily, “Maxy can you get me a drink?”

“I’ll get you changed first.”

“Nooooooo, need water now,” Charles cried, patting at Max’s face to try and push him away. 

Max sighed and nodded. 

“Okay, you take your trousers off then and I’ll come and bring you your water, okay? And some painkillers because I’m sure your head is going to be pounding tomorrow.”

Charles nodded sleepily and pushed himself upwards slightly. Upon seeing that Charles wasn’t shaking at all, Daniel followed after Max, the two of them muttering quietly to one another. 

He was able to change without any hassle, pulling on his black and white checked pyjama pants without any problem and climbing under the blankets and duvet, burying his head in the pillow and closing his eyes to make it seem as though he’d already fallen asleep. 

“Sleep well, little brother,” Max whispered, brushing a kiss over Charles’ hairline and pushing his hair off his forehead.

Charles unconsciously leaned into his hold, wanting nothing more than to open his arms and grip onto Max’s hand and pull him onto Charles’ bed. He wanted Max to hold him whilst he cried and sobbed and scratched away the pain of Mick’s fingers on his body, touching him in a way that Charles knew a lot of people already had, but never without his permission. He wanted Max to tell him how he could make this feeling go away, how he could regain control of himself when he felt like he was lost in the darkness, in the oblivion. He was nothing more than a passing star.

Pretty in the moment but nothing to write home about. 

Charles didn’t want that anymore. 

Instead Charles pushed himself onto his front, pulling the blankets tight around his head and letting lose. 

Charles pressed his hands to his mouth and buried his face in his pillow, trying his best to muffle the sobs as well as he could. Everything ached and hurt and Charles didn’t know how much more of this he could take.

Every time he closed his eyes, he felt his hands on him.

His tongue on his neck

His lips on his. 

No amount of scrubbing would make that feeling go away. 

He heard his Dads walking past his room at some point, heard a groggy conversation in the room next door where Max and Daniel probably exchanging a brief conversation with their dads. His bedroom door was opened at one point but Charles made sure his face was still buried in the pillow so that they wouldn’t see the state of his face. 

“Charles?” 

Charles kept breathing slow and deep, sniffling slightly and wiggling in a way that he hoped was sleepily authentic. Eventually his door closed again and Charles was able to turn onto his back, looking across at the wall behind his desk. 

It was painted intricately, something that he’d spent hours designing with his Isä when he was a kid and then to finally see the mural take place reminded Charles that there was good things in his life. Not that it felt like there wasn’t. He couldn’t see them at the moment. But his Isä still loved him, even if his Dad didn’t seem to anymore. And whenever Charles looked at the mural, it calmed him. The dark blues, purples and creams making up the mountain view was something that he’d been so proud of when he’d created it, pulling the inspiration of colours from Wassily Kandinsky. 

And now Charles’ body reflected Kandinsky instead and he wanted nothing more than to paint over the mountains and hide it all from the world. 

Mountains told you that you had a journey to climb, and whilst Charles knew that it was something he was battling, he didn’t want it anymore. He felt like he was on a downward spiral and he wasn’t going to smoothly descend to the bottom of the mountain but instead he was frantically trying to hold on and get a grip but the mountain was sending him flying. If Charles wasn’t careful, he was going to smash into a boulder. 

An immovable object was going to meet an unstoppable force.

Charles didn’t want to be the unstoppable force but with the way his mind was running, he knew that he was. 

Mick had completely destroyed him. 

And Charles was getting to a point where he was almost welcoming the boulder. 

He couldn’t fall asleep that night. He spent many hours tossing and turning before he gave up. Sleep wasn’t his friend tonight and Charles got up instead. He pulled his black hoodie with the red band around the chest on, turned on the little bedside lamp and scrubbed at his eyes as he sat on the floor of his room. 

If he couldn’t sleep, he may as well use the time productively and get some work down. He dug under his bed and pulled his sketchbook out, flicking to a new page and sketching out the rough shape of a feminine form. Amy had given him little guidance in what he needed to do, other than his next project had to involve a trailing skirt on a dress, and knew that she didn’t need to tell Charles any more than that. He had the kind of mind that created works that you couldn’t dream up if you gave him more guidance. 

Charles sketched a couple ideas before settling on a sheer pink skirt, and a diamanté bodice with thin straps over the shoulders. Charles started layering pinks and greys over one another with his markers, humming softly to distract himself from his mind. 

When Charles was alone with his art, it was like nothing else could filter through. The world went quiet for some time, as though it knew there was someone that needed some peace. Charles could work in the noisiest of places, because his brain would shut off. It was as though he had a direct connection to the extremities of the universe and he could channel the outer atmosphere in which there was nothing. Charles liked it when there was nothing. 

Colour enchanted him and the silence comforted him. 

Charles’ artwork was another talent. And he needed this or he was going to fall apart. 

His alarm started going off, and Charles pushed himself to stand up, cracking his back as though it was bubble wrap going through a shredder. His fingers were aching from cradling his tools of creation between his fingers for so long, but when Charles looked at the work he’d created, he’d never felt prouder. 

Beauty came from the darkness, and Charles had created something that even he had to admit was stunning. It was the kind of thing he knew Charlotte would look gorgeous in, all long legs and dark blonde hair, sun-kissed skin reflecting under the sheer pink. 

“Wake up shithead!” Max’s voice echoed through the door, banging his fist loudly against the wood. 

“I’m awake,” Charles said back. 

“Great!” Max said, “Come help me make breakfast!” 

Charles sighed and shoved his sketchbook back under his bed and kicked his markers alongside them. He turned to his phone and finally shut the shrillness off, and all of a sudden, the lack of sleep hit him. 

He felt nervous and on edge. 

That was probably down to the fact that he’d been seeing Mick in less than two hours and Charles could think of nothing more painful than seeing him again.

“Hey, are you alright?” Max nudged him as they made breakfast once Charles eventually stumbled down the stairs. He was wearing Daniel’s football team shirt, Charles noted. 

And for a moment, Charles considered saying no, no he wasn’t alright. 

“Yeah why?” He said instead.

“I dunno, it’s just, you’ve been quiet lately and not going out and that.”

“Oh no it’s nothing,” Charles lied easily, “Just been busy.”

Max stared at him like he didn’t believe him, but ultimately Charles knew that he’d be thinking that Charles would’ve told him if something was wrong and when Max nodded resignedly, Charles was thankful. 

“How much did you drink last night? You seemed pretty out of it.”

“No idea,” Charles forced himself to laughed, “I don’t really remember much of last night.”

It pained him to badly to say those words. Charles remembered nothing in as much depth as he did last night. He doubted he’d forget that anytime soon. It was going to haunt his nightmares and his every waking moment. 

Max laughed slightly but Charles knew it was forced.

“What’s up, Maxy? You got something on your mind?”

“No,” Max mumbled, “Just worried about you.”

“You don’t have to be worried about me, I’m perfectly fine.”

Max nodded and Charles ruffled Max’s hair to distract him. Charles turned to the toast that had just popped up and started stacking it up, working in silence alongside his brother. Charles hated that he’d missed these soft moments of quiet with his brother as much as he had, but he really had. He’d forgotten what it was like to actually have his twin beside him. 

“It’s just...” Max eventually murmured, “It sounded like you were crying last night.”

Charles’ blood ran cold and he swore internally. 

Fuck fuck fuck

“Oh I had a bad dream, must’ve been then.” He shrugged, wrapping his arm around Max’s neck and ruffling his hair, “Nothing you need to worry about, my little Lion.”

Max smiled but it wasn’t his normal one.

“You know you can talk to me, right? I know I’ve got Daniel now but you’re still my brother. You’re still number 1, chubby.”

“I know, Maxy,” Charles smiled, but it couldn’t reach his eyes and he knew instantly that Max knew something was wrong, “But it’s fine, I told you. I’m taking care of myself and everything I need to do. I’m just focused on trying to get my grades up, that’s all.”

“You don’t need to,” Max said, pulling Charles into him and wrapping his arms around Charles’ neck, hugging him as carefully as he possibly could. “Whatever Dad said to you, it doesn’t matter, Charlie. Do art and be happy. Even if you don’t end up going to uni because you don’t want to, make sure it’s your decision. Dad can’t control you. Please, just be happy, for me.”

“Only for you Max,” Charles promised, hugging Max back and burying his face in his shoulder. 

He’d really missed this. He missed Max a hell of a lot and he’d forgotten how much he loved his brother, regardless of how much Charles apparently frustrated and annoyed Max. He’d always be Charles’ best friend. 

Until Charles went and fucked it all up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chubby comes from a video I saw on Tumblr where Seb was heard over the team radio calling Charles 'chubby' (https://tmblr.co/ZBeQqV2nLoYJ_ )
> 
> comments, kudos and feedback are always greatly appreciated❤️
> 
> Tumblr is available at 3303andmore if you want to shout at me for continuously getting your hopes up only for you to know they're about to crash and burn


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **CONTENT WARNINGS: Physical violence, derogatory language, implied suicidal thoughts, referenced sexual assault**

It should’ve been easy

It should’ve been straight-forward. 

Charles had done all this and yet he’d gone and fucked it up all because he couldn’t control his fucking emotions. 

Charles was curled up in his bed alone, sobbing harder than he ever thought possible. 

And all because Max was being fucking molly-coddled and treated like the family fucking angel. 

\-----

Charles had thought he’d finally been given some freedom. He’d gone into school on Thursday only to find out that Mick wasn’t in, he was on a sick day apparently and Charles felt free. He could have a day where all he had to worry about was people getting too close to him and scaring him. All the fear and nerves of seeing Mick today had gone and whilst Charles still didn’t feel right, he felt _okay_. And he’d take that. 

Charles still didn’t want anyone to touch him, however. He’d showered before school and he’d felt safe when Max hugged him, but the second his foot crossed that threshold and he was back in the school environment, it was like a bucket of ice had been dumped on him. His body was shaking and it was only by shoving his hands in his pockets that he could hide the effect that the student population was having on him. 

Their sixth form wasn’t that large, not in comparison to some of the others in the area, but with 300ish people across year 12 and 13, it was a lot of people to dodge when the idea of having someone even brush their hand against you made you want to vomit. 

Charles had dragged himself into textiles, sat down next to Charlotte and smiled. 

“I want to show you something,” He whispered, and Charlotte instantly turned to give him her full attention. 

They’d met back in year 7, bonded over the fact that Charles’ bestfriend at the time had a major crush on her and an eleven year old Charlotte could not have cared less. And now, five years later, they were friends themselves. With the way people had grown bored of Charles, he’d actually guess that Charlotte was probably his closest friend now. 

Yet she’d still never really been allowed to see the clothes he designed until they were done. Charles was closed off, he didn’t like anyone seeing what he did in case when it came to making it, he didn’t like it and scrapped the idea. If no one knew what he was making, he couldn’t have people’s expectations on him to make it. Charles liked that. Designing clothes and art was a personal thing and he changed his mind way too often. 

But there was something different about this one. 

“Holy shit, Charles…” Charlotte murmured as he placed the sketchbook down in front of her, “Oh my god.”

“What do you think?” Charles asked, biting his lip nervously. 

“Charles this is literally the best thing I’ve ever seen in my life. It’s phenomenal. How the hell did you come up with this?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” He shrugged, running his fingers up and down the string of his hoodie, “I needed to do something and so I drew that. Do you think it’s alright?”

“Charles,” Charlotte whispered, cradling Charles’ jaw in her hands, “You are amazing. That dress is amazing. You are so fucking talented and I am so in awe of you, please, please, for the love of everything, apply to London.”

“I already did..” He told him, a grin working its way onto his face, “I did it, Lottie. Yesterday.”

“YOU CLEVER LITTLE BASTARD!” Charlotte screamed, standing up and hugging Charles as tight as she could. “You are so fantastic, oh my god, I adore you so much.”

“I might not get in, Lottie.”

“Yes you will,” She promised, “If they say no, I will personally end them, Charles. They’re going to take you because you make shit like this and then think you’re not good enough, but you are. And please, please, make this dress real because I want it so bad.”

“I drew it knowing you’d suit it,” He told her. 

Charlotte didn’t say much more. Instead she dropped into her chair again and rested her head against his shoulder. 

“I’m really proud of you, you know that, right?”

“I know, I’m proud of you too.” Charles replied.

“Charlotte! Charles! Get to work!” Amy ordered, staring at the two teenagers until they picked up their equipment and started getting on with their work. 

It wasn't until a little while later on that Amy said, 

“Charles, can I have a word, please?” and Charles nodded, finishing off a stitch before safely depositing his equipment and following Amy out to the corridor. 

“I heard you say to Charlotte you’ve applied to LCF. How are you feeling about that?”

“Good,” Charles admitted, “It’s good, I needed something to distract myself with and this is perfect.”

“Have you told-”

“Nope,” Charles cut her off before she could even say anything, “I’m not telling them until I know anything more. I don’t want them to expect anything. Telling Charlotte and you and Carole is different because you’ll see me for a couple hours and when I leave you, you won’t think anything more. But the minute even Max knows, it’s all anyone is going to talk about and I don’t want to be constantly talking about it.”

“You know what to do for a portfolio, don’t you?”

“Yeah, keep the content for the composition the same way, show stuff I’m proud of and some examples of concepts for ideas.” Charles nodded. 

“Good lad. You can email me at any point if you want me to have a look at it. I agree with Charlotte, Charles. You are more than capable of LCF accepting you and you deserve this. I’ll be rooting for you.”

“Thanks, Amy.”

“Carole told me as well that you’re thinking about putting in a piece for the Easter showcase?”

“Nope,” Charles laughed, “Carole decided I should put something in, she thinks it’ll help me break out of my safety net by showing off something.”

“I agree with her, Charles. Make something that means something to you and I’ll put it in there.”

“Only if LCF accept me,” Charles said, “If they accept me, I’ll do it, I don’t want to show off if I’m not good enough.”

Charles could tell Amy wanted to argue with him, tell him he was good enough but he didn’t want to listen to that and Amy knew that. 

“Fine, deal,” Amy said, holding her hand out for Charles to shake in agreement. 

Charles felt good for the rest of the day. He’d successfully avoided anyone touching him and he felt better about his future. 

Yet his good mood would never continue. 

Charles almost thought it was because he was getting too cocky, but then he remembered that it didn’t matter what he did, Mick was a bastard. 

He’d gone home that night with all thoughts of Mick gone from his mind, which should’ve been his first sign that something was going to go wrong. 

During dinner, Charles’ mind was distracted, all he could think about was what Amy and Carole told him to make. The idea he’d come up with when originally talking to Carole was still in his head, and Charles knew he’d be able to make it in four months. It was complicated but he’d do it. 

“We need to talk about last night, Charles.” Sebastian said. 

Charles didn’t reply. He needed to keep his head strong and on the right path and if he had to talk about the Gala, he’d immediately crash and Charles knew that his mind would be back on what Mick had done. He’d done so well blocking it out. He wasn’t having Dad ruin it now by asking questions. 

“Get back here now!” His dad shouted after him as Charles scraped back his chair and walked off. “Charles, get back here!”

“Go fuck yourself!” Charles screamed.

Storms echoed around his head, insistent drilling of all the things his dad was going to scream at him. All because he’d been stupid and got himself into a situation where he let his Dad down. 

Mick’s dad was one of his fathers closest friends, and when Michael inevitably told Sebastian what Charles had done, his Dad was going to kill him. He wasn’t going to be on Charles’ side. He’d already not seemed impressed by the idea of Charles sleeping around, if he found out that something had happened with his friend’s son, Sebastian was going to put the blame on him.

Wasn’t he?

No

Surely not?

Maybe this was the one time his Dad would be on his side, because Charles didn’t want this to happen. His Dad had implored onto all of the boys the importance of consent, and all Charles had to do was show Seb the bruises and let him talk to Lewis and he’d understand. 

He needed his Dad to understand that, for once, Charles hadn’t been the bad guy. 

But the idea of going to his Dad and telling him what had happened terrified him. The voice in the back of his head kept screaming at him that his Dad wouldn’t believe him, and there was no way that if Dad didn’t believe Charles, Charles would ever be able to trust anyone ever again. 

Charles pushed himself into his bedroom, grabbed his blanket and stumbled into the corner between his desk and the window. Charles dropped to the floor, pressed his knees into his chest and pulled his blanket around him. Burying his face into his knees, Charles sobbed. 

It wasn’t anything more than that. 

He was scared and upset and Charles didn’t want this anymore. 

He wanted his Dad. 

But his Dad didn’t want him. 

It was like someone had shoved ice down his neck and Charles couldn’t see anything in front of his eyes but the image of himself in that bathroom, Mick breathing down his neck and the feeling of his fingers tracing across his skin.

Charles wanted to throw up, to scratch at his skin and scream himself hoarse. 

He’d take a thousand bruises over and over again if it just meant that he didn’t have to live with the guilt that he’d let himself allow Mick to hurt him like this. 

This had never been the plan. The plan had always been to take a couple bumps and bruises, to protect Max and give him the freedom to be happy for once. Charles had never factored in letting Mick destroy his autonomy and control over his own body by taking away the one thing that his Dad had encouraged him so badly to learn about. 

Darkness was quick to fight him, and for the first time in a long, long time, Charles let it win. 

Charles woke up hours later, dutifully tucked into bed with his blanket still tied around him. 

Charles tore the blanket away, checking what he was wearing. 

His joggers and his hoodie. The exact same clothes he’d gone into sixth-form in. 

Oh thank god

No more questions tonight. 

\----

Going into school on the last day of term had always been fun. 

His school was pushy on grades, but they’d still have fun, and on the last day, it normally ended up being a bit of a sack off. He had textiles, art and French on Fridays, and it should’ve been good. It should’ve been relaxing. 

But Mick had gotten hold of him before he’d even made it to his first period art class. 

“Mick please-” Charles begged, which he definitely shouldn’t have done when he saw the feral grin on Mick’s face. 

“You’re really good at begging, aren’t you? That’s all you could do on Wednesday.” Mick sneered.

When Charles looked properly, he could see a hint of a bruise that had been cleverly covered up using foundation. Mick’s sister, probably. 

Where the hell had that bruise come from?

“Don’t do this.”

“See, I would’ve been on your side, Charlie. But you’re incapable of doing anything for yourself, aren’t you? And so, why should I? Hm? Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t knock you the fuck out.”

“What are you talking about?”

“If only your brothers cared about you as much as your brothers boyfriends did,” Mick hissed, and suddenly Charles understood where the suspected bruise originated. 

“Do you mean-”

“I’m warning you, this is it, Charles. If you don’t tell them everything is fine, there won’t be time to stop what I’m going to do to you. Consider this a final warning.”

Charles pressed himself harder into the wall and barely refrained from throwing up when Mick deliberately shoved his hand under Charles’ jumper and onto his skin.

Goosebumps erupted in horror, hairs standing on end like an army to protect him. 

“So smooth, like silk. You like silk, don’t you, Charlie? You like being pretty.” Mick pulled Charles closer and he scoffed when Charles tried to recoil, “I will fuck you up so badly no one will recognise your pretty little face. And finally everyone will see you for what you are. A little fraud.”

“Do it,” Charles dared, trying to appear braver than he felt when all he wanted to do was rip Mick’s hand off his skin and burn himself to the point that he was cleansed from his dirty touch. “See if I care.”

“That’s very dangerous, baby boy.”

“I’m a dangerous person,” Charles shrugged. He knew his hands were shaking violently where Mick couldn’t see, but with the way Mick was pulling back to actually look over Charles, he thought that he might have won this round for a change. 

This was the first time in a long time that Charles had felt seen and noticed. And he was _living_ for it. 

Charles tried to push himself away from Mick, channelling every bit of strength he could to try and save himself, but then Mick gripped him harder and his fingers weren’t just pressing onto his torso anymore but trying to dig their way down into his trousers instead, 

Alarms sliced through the air.. 

Wait

That wasn’t the school bell

Oh it was Charles

Charles didn’t realise he could scream quite like that.

“Get the fuck off me!” He shouted, using every bit of strength he had to push Mick away from him.

“Stop screaming you slut.”

Charles shimmied his hands up to grab at Mick’s hair, ripping it as hard as he could and making the younger boy exclaim in pain.

“Get your whore hands off me! You wanted this! You wanted me to save your fucking brother!” Mick shouted, grabbing at Charles’ wrist.

His fingers fit like a lock over the bruises, falling into place alongside the marks he’d blessed his wrist with. Charles would’ve shouted in pain but then he looked behind Mick. 

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Max, just fuck off, please, just go!” Charles shouted.

No no no no no

This couldn’t be happening

He wasn’t meant to find out

“Charles-” Max started, but was cut off by Mick’s laughter.

“Oh precious baby boy didn’t tell the freak, did he?”

“Mick don’t!” Charles begged, furiously pushing him away and stumbling away 

He could hear Mick laughing where he’d left him behind as he pushed Max away. Max kept trying to dig his feet into the floor, trying to make Charles stop pushing him away. 

“Charles, what the hell happened? What’s he talking about?”

“Nothing! Just ignore it Max! I’m fine, I’ve got it under control!”

“Stop lying to me!” Max screamed. 

When Charles saw his eyes, he felt like he was looking at a different person. Max’s eyes had covered over to the point that they weren’t that soft and warm blue, but instead were violently and angrily blue. 

“I’m not lying! I’m fine!”

“What did he mean you didn’t tell me? What are you hiding? Why was you screaming and why did he have you against the wall?”

“Max, drop it, I swear to god, drop it.”

“Not until you tell me what he meant!”

“I’m helping him out, alright? And you fucked it up by not listening to me. That’s what’s happened.”

“ _I_ fucked it up?”

“He’s angry at me, and you made it worst. If he fucks me up, Max, it’s all your fault because you can’t do shit, can you?”

“You blame me…”

“Of course I do. If you hadn’t been so fucking perfect none of this shit would’ve ever happened.”

“He hurt you because of me?”

“I told him to. Can’t have you being sad, can we? Daddy wouldn’t like that,” Charles spat angrily.

“I didn’t know you were going to do this.”

Charles scoffed. 

“Well yeah, you’re too weak to do anything yourself, you need everyone to save you. If it wasn’t for me right now, you’d be in fucking therapy again.”

Charles knew that he was crossing a line, and when he saw Max physically flinch so violently his entire being shook, Charles felt like he’d rather have Mick batter him again than keep hurting Max. But there was also part of him that found hurting Max stopped himself from hurting. 

Transference of pain and all that.

“Poor little Golden Boy. Why don’t you run off to Dad and cry and he’ll fix your problems because at least they love you? How Daniel even deals with you I don’t know.”

“Why are you being like this?”

“Why the fuck not? It’s not nice when people don’t treat you like a fucking God, is it, Max? ‘Cause you’re nothing. You’re just smart. You can’t even make friends, because you’re a freak.”

Charles’ head snapped sideways with the force of Max’s hand connecting with his jaw. 

“Oh, now that’s interesting,” Charles said. “Golden Boy is finally getting some balls, huh?”

“What the fuck happened to you?” Max asked, tears falling from his eyes as he looked at Charles. 

Charles shrugged lazily. 

“Leave me alone, Max. I don’t need you. I never needed you. It’s always been about you. I don’t care anymore. Just let me do what I need to so our dads can continue to love you, and I’ll fuck off as soon as I can and you can go back to being the favourite. I don’t care about you anymore. Just let me do what I need to.”

“You need to talk to someone Charles.”

“I don’t need to do shit, Max. Get over yourself.” 

A tear fell from Max’s eye as Charles’ rubbed his jaw.

“Leave me alone, you freak. I don’t need you.”

Charles walked off after that. He could feel Max’s eyes on him the entire time, and the second Charles went around a corner and was back on his own, it all collapsed.

Seeing the pain rip through Max at Charles’ words destroyed his soul. He’d taken that bond and thrown it into the wind, leaving Charles half empty and with nothing but pain in his body. 

He could deal with the bruises from Mick, they didn’t bother him anymore. He’d grown so accustomed to them on his body that he didn’t even think twice anymore. And whilst the pain was hammering in his head of what Mick had done, what he’d threatened to do again just by placing his palm against Charles’ skin, it was still nothing. That made him feel weak but incredibly empty. 

But the pain of his twin bond being ripped from him and knowing that he’d committed the ultimate sin in hurting Max with nothing more than a few stupid words hurt a thousand times more than any hit, smack, or gracing of fingers against his body did.

He couldn’t get the image out of his head of the way Max had flinched so violently. He couldn’t get the feeling off his face of Max punching him. He couldn’t get the bile out of his throat at the fact that he’d called Max weak. A freak. 

He wasn’t. 

He was Charles’ brother. 

And yet he’d killed him. He’d lost his brother, he just knew it. The look in Max’s eyes, it was more than just being resigned at Charles’ behaviour. It was as though he was finally seeing Charles for what he was. 

Nothing more than a show off. Someone that needed attention. Someone that wanted everyone to see him and only him.

He’d literally proven to Max that he would drag people’s attention away from him to have it on himself. 

Charles felt out of it for the rest of the day. It wasn’t even because Mick had tried to harm him again more than just punching him and slapping him around. It was as though he was a cloud, following along and staring at his body whilst it tried to function through the subjects of school. He’d ended up skipping his art class, the idea of sitting in that environment and drowning in their voices and the smell of turpentine and beauty whilst Charles was drowning in himself and the disgust of his own behaviour too harrowingly painful. 

Part of him still felt there to be a sense of catharsis in what he’d done. He’d always expected that the day Max found out would be painful and there’d be a lot of crying. But when he’d felt Max’s fist connect with his jaw, it was as though it was the universe telling him that he deserved it. He couldn’t ever have a moment of happiness or safety because all he ever did was ruin things. 

He’d ruined Max’s happiness.

And yet, whilst Charles hated that he’d done that, for once, Charles was glad that Max truly understood the pain of what Charles went through for him. He’d never been able to tell Max precisely how hard it sometimes was to be his little brother. Max didn’t understand it. He didn’t see how much he’d tried to fight over the years to even become close to being his parents favourite. No matter what he did, Max would forever take that mantle. 

“Charles? Can I have a word please?” Carole said at the end of the day, as the rest of the class started to file out.

Charles pulled his hood around his head and slunk over to sit on the desk in front of Carole’s.

“You’ve been very quiet today, what’s wrong?”

“I had an argument with Max and I think I ruined everything between us.” Charles admitted, looking down at his hands folded across his lap. 

“What happened?”

“I said something to him, something that I shouldn’t have. And I just, I’ve ruined everything, Carole.” Charles watched a tear drop onto his clenched hands, “And we’re meant to be going away for Christmas and he’s going to hate me so bad and I didn’t mean to upset him, but I was angry and scared, and he won’t ever forgive me.”

“I’m sure that’s not true. Your brother adores you, both of them do.”

“I ruined it...” Charles said, his voice cracking painfully, “He’s angry because I’m keeping secrets but he doesn’t understand why I’m doing that and why I’m different. It’s as though because I’ve tried to grow up, everyone is angry at me for it and I don’t know what to do anymore. I just want to be happy being me but no one seems to let me.”

“Stop keeping secrets then!” Carole told him. 

If it was that easy, Charles would’ve done it already.

“They don’t understand me.”

“Because you don’t give them chance to! Charles, so much of you is your art and your fashion stuff, if you just opened up about that and how much it embodies you, you’d find that your family understand you. They can’t understand you when they’re not seeing the real you. And you can’t be angry at them for not wanting you to go into this world when all you do is hide your ability. Of course they’re going to worry about you going to an art school if you won’t open up to them about what art means to you.”

“I tried already. And dad shouted at me.”

“Did he? Did he shout or did he speak with a loud volume because he’s worried about you? He’s your _Dad_ , Charles, he’s always going to worry.”

“He doesn’t understand-”

“Have you tried to help him understand? Or do you scream and shout and storm off before you have a proper conversation?” Carole said, ducking down so Charles had no choice but to look at her.

“Scream,” Charles quietly whispered, “I’m scared he’ll reject me, Carole. He told my Dad that the only reason he got into art school was because he had the talent. What if I don’t? What if he looks at my stuff and he thinks it’s bad?”

“You won’t know until you try, Charles. Talk to them. Winter break is a good start. You’ve got work due in and you’re going to be in Germany, right? Lots of time to be working around them. Baby steps, if that’s what’s best for you, but even if you draw one thing in front of them and let them see, even if you don’t explicitly show them, it’s a step forward. And you’ll sort things out with Max when you have more faith in yourself. You can’t expect everyone to keep bending to you and trying to fix you if you won’t let people in, Charles. Let people in. It’s important.”

“Okay,” Charles said, wiping his eyes and smiling sadly at Carole.

“Have a good break, and if you get an email from LCF, please let me know. I’m rooting for you, I’ve never seen anyone with such raw talent as you. And I can’t wait to see your work on the runway.”

Charles smiled and nodded.

“I’m going to do that one day. I’m going to be on all of them,” Charles promised.

“I can’t wait to see it. And when you’re in Paris, if there’s not fluent french of you explaining your choices on the runway, I’m going to personally hunt you down and have you retranslate all of your work from year 7 right through to year 13. That's seven years of French, Charles.” Carole joked.

Charles knew she was joking, but he hoped one day she would. Carole had been the bane of his existence during his early years at secondary school. Charles had shown a natural affinity to French, had been able to pick it up without any hassle, and yet he’d refused to study properly or pay attention in class. But he never had been able to pay attention in any class properly. There’s was something about words and letters that jumbled themselves around and Charles didn’t understand why they had to mess with his brain like they did. French didn’t do that, for some reason, and when he’d gone into his GCSEs, French was the one subject that he’d been comfortable in aside from his artistic classes. And now, Carole was one of Charles’ most favourite people in the world. 

He hoped one day, he’d be able to stand up at Paris Fashion Week, with even one design being showcased, and when asked what and who had inspired him, he could respond, in fluent French, ‘Mademoiselle Carole Deveraux et Mademoiselle Amy Carter’. The two ladies that had seen Charles grow from a shitty little eleven year old to a scared but talented seventeen year old. 

Two ladies who had never stopped believing in him.

“Merci, Carole.” Charles said, pushing himself off the desk, “Have a good break.”

“Et tu, Charles. Stay safe, young man.”

Charles lingered for a moment longer at the door.

“I think I need to talk to you, properly, when we come back. I need to get my head in order, but I think I’m going to need to talk to someone.”

“I’ll be waiting for you,” Carole promised.

Charles smiled for the last time and then left, waving goodbye to Carole as he wandered back down the corridor. 

He stretched his arms wide, resembling Christ the Redeemer, took a deep breath and walked away from the sanctity of his classroom. He ran his fingers across the walls as he walked.

Charles had never been religious, he’d studied it mandatorily but had never found anything in it that spoke to him. However as he walked, it was as though a great power had been bestowed upon him and all the fear and anxiety was lifting. 

Charles couldn’t let them in, he couldn’t sit his family down and explain everything. He wasn’t ready for that. But he could maybe stop being so guarded. That seemed like a good baby step. 

As Charles reached the car, he automatically went to climb into the front, knowing Max was getting a lift from Daniel so that Daniel could stay for dinner. And if Charles knew Max at all, Daniel would end up staying over, citing some weird reason that would see the boys nervously try and justify Daniel staying rather than driving himself home. 

Charles went wide eyed when he realised that there was already someone sitting in the front seat of the car. More specifically, it was his Dad that was sat in the front seat of the car. 

“What are you doing here?” Charles asked as he slid into the back, smiling awkwardly at Valtteri who was frowning at their parents too.

“Did you get into a fight today?” Sebastian said, turning around and looking at Charles.

“Yes,” He admitted. 

“Why?”

“Because the guy was a prick.”

“Watch your language,” Sebastian chastised, “What happened?”

“He was being an idiot, so I pushed him. It wasn’t really a fight, if we’re being technical, Dad.”

“Mick got sent home, Charles.” Sebastian told him and Charles sucked in a breath. 

“I didn’t do anything, nothing that would warrant him getting sent home. Dad I swear, I didn’t. I just pushed him and pulled his hair a bit.”

“That’s not what his black eye says, Charles.”

Oh the little bastard. 

Charles closed his eyes and hung his head in resignation. 

“That wasn’t Charles, Dad,” Valtteri input, “He had it when he came in this morning, Lewis said there was a fight the other day. Nothing to do with Charles.”

“When was this?”

“Lew only said it was the other day, he didn’t say precisely when. But I saw the bruise this morning, Dad. It wasn’t Charles’ fault.” 

Charles looked across at his eldest brother, and Charles wanted nothing more than to throw himself into his arms and hug him as tight as he could. But he couldn’t do that. Not right now. 

Valtteri looked across and winked slightly at him, resting his fingers lightly on top of Charles in comfort. 

“What happened with Max, though?”

“He punched me because I called him a freak and said a lot of other really shit things to him,” Charles whispered, “I will talk to him when we get home.”

“He’d rather you didn’t exist, at the moment, Charles,” Sebastian told him. Charles was surprised that he didn’t exactly sound angry but rather he sounded exhausted.

Charles sunk down in his seat, pulling his seat belt around himself and fidgeting with his hoodie strings. It was quiet the entire drive home, and had Charles lifted his head up, he’d have seen the worried looks coming from his family. His mind was preoccupied with his brother. It was all Charles' fault. Max was upset with Charles, and apparently he wished Charles didn't exist anymore. 

Frankly, part of Charles wished the same.

“Leave your brother alone tonight, okay? He needs some time to be alone with Daniel, and he’ll be there at dinner and you’re both going to watch that film on Netflix neither of you will shut up about with the rest of us, but you can’t expect him to want to talk to you. You promised you wouldn’t do this anymore, Charles. You promised you’d change your attitude and not keep doing this.”

“I made a mistake, I know that. I will talk to him, Dad. I’ll explain things.”

Sebastian nodded at him, and when they climbed out the car, Daniel’s car already there, Sebastian grabbed Charles and quickly pulled him into his arms. 

“Stop being an idiot, okay?”

Charles melted into his hold and nodded. He hugged his Dad briefly, but didn’t hold on for as long as he wanted to. It was painful to drag himself away when this was the thing he’d wanted more than anything, but if he held on, Charles knew he was going to break down and start crying and he wasn’t ready to open up yet. It wasn’t the right time. 

He’d lost his brother and he couldn’t immediately throw out a sob-story as a way of convincing Max that it wasn’t what was meant to have happened. He didn’t want to taint his relationship with Max by only having his brother talk to him because Charles had destroyed every aspect of himself. The first job was to find himself, and then find his relationship with Max again. He had to trust that Max was going to be there to catch him when he fell, because at this rate, Charles was starting to think that the boulder on the mountain from before was chasing him rapidly down the mountain, and he was starting to get scared that his unmovable force would leave him paralysed under his own behaviour. 

Charles sat with his sketchbook on the coffee table once they got in, crosslegged in front of the sofa whilst Sebastian sat writing something behind him on his laptop. Charles’ entire being seemed to shake as he flicked to a clean page and grabbed his pencil. The latest brief had been to incorporate classic art of his choice into a portrait of someone that was important to them. Charles had always leaned more towards the abstract style, and so as he pulled up the reference picture he wanted to use on his phone, he started thinking about the way he could incorporate _Composition VII_ and _Improvisation. Dreamy._ by Kandinsky into his work. 

“What you drawing, kid?” Kimi asked, nudging Charles’s back slightly with his foot as he dropped to sit beside Seb on the sofa. 

“Practice piece for my mock exam, portraiture and abstract.”

“Who you drawing?”

“You’ll see when it’s done,” Charles cheeked, throwing a grin over his shoulder at his parents. 

“That sounded identical to when you were doing your stuff,” Seb whispered, and Charles ducked even lower. 

It was nice to hear he was like his Isa. 

Charles continued sketching, trying to get the proportions right and consistently changing the way it had been created. He was stuck in his own head, singing along silently to a musical soundtrack he’d fleetingly heard from Charlotte, grinning whenever a certain chorus hit his memory. Charles was unbreakable. No matter how much Mick tried to tear him down, he was unbreakable. He could stand this test. It was the hardest one he’d ever done and there was not even anything he could do that would allow him to study away the fear. All he knew was that he had to protect himself and he’d protect his heart first and foremost if it stopped Mick tearing him apart completely. 

Dinner was awkward, to put it mildly. Once Kimi had finally been able to knock Charles out of his own head and convince him to join them, he’d awkwardly shuffled over to the table and stopped for a moment when he realised Max wasn’t sitting in his normal spot. Normally, Max would sit opposite Charles, the two of them being able to kick at each other and fight like children and not the nearly grown adults they were. Only this time, Charles was met with the blank and emotionless shell of Daniel. Daniel never broke eye contact the entire time that Charles dropped into his seat, and when he looked across at Max, he could see the way that Max’s face was stained with tears and his chest was still heaving. 

And he had the blanket around his shoulders. 

Charles had done that to him. 

Charles had caused his brother to have a panic attack and make him not feel safe in his own home anymore. And Charles wanted to throw up. 

The pain of it was immeasurable and he struggled to believe that it was his shitty attitude that had lead to this. 

Neither twin spoke the entire time, and Daniel spent most of his time quietly running his hand across Max’s arm and encouraging him to eat even a tiny amount. Charles couldn’t look at him, and he couldn’t look at their dads who were inevitably going to be hating Charles right now for what he’d enabled. 

Valtteri was silently looking back and forth between them, whilst their Dads had a conversation about everything they needed to get sorted before they flew out to Germany on Monday. Charles really wasn’t looking forward to going away now that he knew that Max was probably going to spend the entire ten days ignoring every aspect of Charles and his existence. 

By the time the movie rolled around, Charles wanted to sneak off. It took a single look from his Dad and Charles dropped silently onto the floor. He got back to work on the sketch, throwing down random colours onto the portrait to give himself a rough idea of how he wanted to do it. He knew he’d use oil paint and markers, it was the easiest way of doing his abstract classicism, and so it wasn’t like he was able to create the work he actually wanted to, but it was good to have an idea.

Half of Charles expected that Max would leave, sit through so much of the movie and then make his excuses and go to bed. Instead, Max fell asleep easily enough, curled around Daniel and their hands loosely tied together, his head tucked into the space under Daniel’s chin and his free hand clutching the blanket between his fingers. Max looked peaceful. He looked happy. If you ignored the tear stains of course. 

That’s why Charles was doing this. Even amidst hurting his brother as badly as he had, when Max was in Daniel’s arms, he was happy and he was free from everything for a while. 

“You can stay tonight, Dan, it’s too late to be driving home now.” Sebastian had murmured as he woke the two boys up once the movie was over.

Daniel had fallen asleep at some point, Charles wasn’t even sure when as he’d spent most of the night still curled over his artwork once he’d seen Max asleep, but he knew from experience that Max was one of the warmest blankets you could get and Charles definitely understood him falling asleep when Max was wrapped around him. 

“If you’re sure, I don’t want to put you out of your way.”

“It’s fine, Daniel. It’s too dangerous for you to drive home if you’re tired. Just let your mum know you’re stopping here tonight.”

“Thank you, Seb. I’ll just take Max up to bed and then I’ll sort out some blankets and sheets to sleep on his floor, if that’s alright?”

“Daniel. You’re both old enough, you can sleep in his bed. Just no funny business,” Kimi warned, pointing his finger menacingly and Charles watched the bright red blush rise high on Daniel’s cheeks. 

“Maxy, it’s bedtime, baby, let’s go to bed,” Daniel roused Max slowly, carding his fingers through Max’s hair to encourage him to wake up enough to get up the stairs. 

Charles watched them go, Max shuffling tiredly behind Daniel and barely saying goodnight to his family before he was up the stairs and his door shut behind them. He stared longingly at the stairs. 

He really wished Daniel had gone home. Then he could talk to Max. Apologise to Max. 

Why could he not tell his brother what was happening?

If he told Max, Max could use his amazing brain to help him figure out what to do. 

No.

There was a reason he was the one taking all of this. 

He was protecting Max. He couldn’t now drag Max through it by making him realise that the only reason Max had been left alone was because Charles had taken it all. Max had an idea but he didn’t know everything and Charles needed to keep it that way.

Charles was the strong one.

He had to be.

He had to pretend everything was okay. 

But then Valtteri knocked his shoulder playfully to grab his attention and Charles had instantly winced. 

“I barely even touched you?” Valtteri said, frowning as he reached out for Charles. 

“No, it’s okay, it’s fine. I just tweaked it earlier, it’s fine, don’t worry.” Charles had promised, brushing away his brother’s concern and smiling through the pain. 

It was getting increasingly harder to do that though, when he was getting changed that night and he saw the inflamed skin and the dark mottled patterns decorating him. He was nothing but a trophy for Mick to show off what he’d done.

Charles shuffled off to the bathroom at one point, brushing his teeth and washing his face. As he walked past Max’s bedroom, he could hear them talking and Charles was sure he’d heard his name mentioned at some point. He stalled for a moment, standing silently outside Max’s door and pressing his ear to it as carefully as he could. 

“I hate him, Dan, I can’t believe he did that. He’s such a prick, all he does is shit for himself and then he pulls that? I hate him, Danny, I hate him.”

Charles scarpered before he heard the rest and pulled his blankets over him when he got back into his room. 

Max hated him.

Charles had done everything to protect him and make his brother happy, and all that he’d done had resulted in Max hating him. The tears dropped thick and fast. 

Charles didn’t want to be here anymore. He didn’t want to have to deal with Max hating him, not when he’d tried so hard to protect him. 

It took many hours for him to fall asleep, every word and thought that flew through his head repeated the things that Max had told him, Max had done, Max had looked at him. It was all from Max and what was buried in his soul. The twins were being ripped apart and Charles knew that if Mick found out, he’d be abundantly pleased with himself. All he wanted was to destroy Seb’s family, to make them feel the pain that he had. And he’d done it simply by attaching himself onto the fragile relationship of the twins and ripping them apart from the inside out. 

Charles wasn’t sure what it was that originally woke him up the next morning, and he had to say he was pissed at that. It wasn’t the sunlight. It wasn’t the sound of someone banging on his door. It wasn’t someone pottering around downstairs and making food. Charles was prepared to scream at the ceiling in protest, thinking it was his head that had woken him up, once he was reminded of everything that had happened the night before. 

That was until he realised what it was that he could hear. 

Barely audible moans, the sound of hissed swearing and what appeared to be a chanting of Daniel’s name (quite quietly, Charles noted, but present none the less) was hitting the wall that separated Charles and Max’s bedrooms. 

Charles barely had chance to fly out of bed before he was in front of the toilet and throwing up, all thoughts of Wednesday night flashing across his mind and reminding him that sex wasn’t good anymore. His brother was over there having the best time of his life, and Charles was sobbing in their bathroom by himself as he panicked and threw up. 

Was this going to be his life now?

He thought he was okay. He thought that by fighting Mick and trying to regain some form of control and not letting people touch him that he’d be okay. 

The only person that Charles wanted right now was Max. 

And he doubted his brother would come and hold his hand as he sobbed. 

Charles was reminded of just how painfully alone he was as he sobbed in the bathroom alone. 

He never thought about the implications of that. Never thought about the fact that the sound echoed violently in the room, that even the smallest amount of noise would hit the tiles and it was as though a full orchestra was playing in here. 

If he’d have thought about it, Charles would’ve moved to his bedroom to sob. But instead, he sobbed in the bathroom, alone and scared. 

He never heard when the hushed moaning stopped. 

He never heard someone gently knocking on the door. 

He was alone. 

That’s how his narrative had to go. He wasn’t allowed people. He’d ruined it all far too quickly. And Charles couldn’t stand what he’d let happen to his world. It was crumbling faster than anything he’d ever witnessed, and Charles wondered whether he’d be the last to crumble or whether he’d simply suffocate under the weight of it all. 

Either way, it wasn’t going to end well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :/
> 
> So, the twins, huh. 
> 
> kudos, comments and feedback always appreciated
> 
> tumblr @ 3303andmore if you want to shout at me :)


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **CONTENT WARNINGS: Mentions of abuse**

Christmas break was awkward, to say the least. The flight over had been Charles sat at the window with his dads by his side, holding hands and quietly talking to each other. He tried to sleep on the way over, but with it only being a two hour flight, Charles was left to quietly suffer and instead be reminded of the love fest that occurred between his parents. Kimi had his left hand tied with Sebastian’s, stroking his thumb over his knuckles whilst his right hand was busy drawing up something complicated on his iPad, most likely a new tattoo for a client. Sebastian was curled slightly onto his side, facing Kimi, and talking to him about something that Charles was never able to decipher. 

His heart may hurt at the sight of his brother and the way he’d instantly flopped into the 2 seats behind with Valtteri so that Charles had no choice but to sit with with parents, but seeing his dads still intensely in love with each other soothed his soul. He’d lost a lot over the last week or so. Autonomy over his body, his brother, and Charles was starting to worry and convince himself that he was pushing too much, that his family were going to lose him too. 

But his parents still loved each other, and that’s what Charles could focus on to take away from the pain of his twin not loving him anymore. There was some happiness in the world when his parents smiled at each other. He’d sometimes come downstairs late in the evenings to find his dads sat on the sofa, Seb resting his legs over Kimi’s lap. Often times they weren’t talking, Kimi was busy designing something and Seb was reading files, but they were happy. Charles missed that. 

He’d started to worry, especially in recent years, that his parents were going to fall apart. That Sebastian’s long hours at work and Kimi’s focus on raising their sons was going to be a catalyst for them falling apart, for them falling out of love. But then Charles would catch the fond smiles they’d throw each other’s way and the fact that regardless of what had happened, the first thing Seb would do before even saying hello to Kimi when he got home from work was wrap his arms around his waist and kiss him. They weren’t the most affectionate parents to each other, at least not in front of the boys, but they’d often find a way into each other’s arms and would sometimes deliberately whack up the PDA sometimes to have the boys gag in disgust at their parents being in love. 

Charles always pretended he hated it, but he didn’t. He loved seeing his dads happy and in love and regardless of how many arguments they’d had over the years, they still adored each other and Charles knew that that was all that mattered. 

It was weird to now see that kind of behaviour being exhibited by his brother. Daniel had been Max’s first boyfriend, but if their behaviour was anything to go by, he’d be Max’s only boyfriend ever. There was something about the way that Daniel looked at Max that said they’d be together forever. 

It was the same look that Kimi had when Seb walked through the door. 

Charles wanted that.

Love. 

That was what he needed.

It was seeing his parents that made Charles realise that love was going to be the underlying theme of his portfolio. Not strictly romantic love, but platonic and familial too. The love Charles had for his brothers was a different kind of love he had for his parents, which was different to the love they had between themselves. Charles’ work always embodied his personality and his life, and love was the one thing that drove him forward. 

Love for his family and love for his art. 

The two tied together in the most exquisite ways and Charles needed to share it all. 

He needed to share his love with the world so that he could hope someone would answer his call for it back. He wasn’t sure if Max would ever send that love back to him. That relationship had fallen apart and Charles was starting to think that he’d ruined his future all because of some stupid words. But regardless of what they said, he knew that even if Max never said another word to him, Charles would still speak to him. Even if not physically, he spoke through his art and his designs. 

Charles hoped that would be enough. 

Part of him knew he had to open up, to talk to his parents and tell them everything. Not just about Mick or his desire to study art, but about him. 

When their dads had first started to be introduced to little Max and Charles at their old care home before they’d been adopted, that was what they did. Little Charles would sit down with them and tell them all the fun things he liked, and when he’d seen the cool pictures on Kimi’s arms, he’d curled onto his lap and traced his finger over them. And then he’d ended up with his tiny hand curled around a pencil as Kimi guided him to draw something on paper. His first ever proper piece of art. Max had always dragged a book with him, would sit himself in between Seb and Kimi and hold the book open to read a story. Sometimes he’d play, sometimes he’d talk, but Max had always seemed to prefer to just hang out with them and listen. Charles hadn’t been able to do that. Not just the reading, that was a whole other issue, but more the contentness to listen and smile and hope. Charles couldn’t do _that_. He wanted these men to adopt him more than anything because they made his brother happy and Little Charles wanted his brother to be happy more than anything. 

Charles knew that in order to get his parents to understand him, he had to start all over again. He’d spent the last few years of his life trying to push himself away from everyone in his family in order to understand himself. And in the process, he’d pushed them away to the point that they didn’t know who he was anymore. And frankly, Charles didn't know who he was anymore.

Little Charles was still there, he was still in his mind and his memories, and he’d been such a happy little boy who loved his brothers and his dads. Charles would do that all over again if it just meant that he got his family back. 

Being around his grandparents was fine once they were finally at their homes again. It had been a long time since they’d visited family over the winter break, normally they came over to England, and so it was weird to be the ones in their place now. Nice, but weird. Winter break mainly involved Charles sat on his own, his body hunched over either his sketchbook or his iPad, trying to sort out coursework. If he was going to be alone, he might as well be productive. 

But what made the loneliness worse was when they had to go to bed. The three brothers were awkwardly sharing a bedroom, in which every night Max would turn his back on Charles, and Valtteri would sigh as he tried to mediate a conversation with either one of the twins whilst they also vehemently ignored each other. 

“Are you two ever going to talk to each other again? Dad is worried about you, you know.” Valtteri asked one day, when he and Charles were sat on the balcony and their breath causing them to become dragons as they looked over the snowy landscape.

“I need to give him space, Val, I fucked him up badly.”

“He’s your brother.”

“And you’re mine too, but when Max thought I’d stolen Dan, you told him to disown me. I get it, but none of you gave me chance to explain things, and then I go and not explain things to Max anyway. I can’t talk to people.”

“Learn,” Valtteri shrugged, “Stop pushing and start pulling people in.”

Charles curled his legs up underneath him on the chair and dropped his head back onto the wall. 

“Why was you screaming the house down on Saturday morning?”

Charles' blood went cold but instead shrugged.

“I wasn’t.”

“Well it wasn’t Max because he was busy getting off with Dan, and Dads were making breakfast, and it definitely wasn’t me, so pretty sure that narrows it down to you.”

“It’s nothing.”

“Lewis told me that he hit Mick. He didn’t tell me why. But, I see things. And I see you. And you’re being different. Whatever’s happening with Max, I don't think I'm wrong in that I'm getting the impression it’s got something to do with Mick.”

“Val, it’s nothing, I’m sorting things.”

“If you’re not going to talk to me, at least talk to Lewis or something. Carole, or Charlotte, even. Just stop pushing everyone away. People love you, regardless of how much of a dick you’re being. I know there's something wrong and I can’t make you talk. But you’re my baby brother, and I’ll protect you until the end of time. Talk to someone, Charles, please. You’re scaring me.”

“I will,” Charles whispered, “I’ll talk to Carole when we go back to school.”

“I’m worried that’ll be too late for you.”

“I’m okay, Val, I just need chance to reevaluate my world. I can’t talk if I don’t understand my own head.”

“People can help you do that,” Valtteri told him.

Charles shrugged and shifted, pulling his legs around so he could sit cross-legged instead. He watched as blueish-purple cold starting to settle against his skin and mottle underneath his bones. Seeing the way that the cold hit him took away from the way that the bruises had hit his body. There was something satisfactory about this being something within Charles’ control and creating the patterns on his body. 

“Right, I’m going out with Max, anyway, so I’ll hang out with you later.” Valtteri said, patting Charles lightly onto the shoulder as he walked past.

Charles nodded and pulled his sketchbook onto his knee. He was planning on getting some more sketches ready and finishing up the one he’d started back home of his important person now that he was being left alone with his thoughts of what Valtteri had told him, when his phone lit up telling him he had an email to open. 

Charles rubbed his eyes with icicle fingers as he pressed the email open and scanned his eyes over the words. 

... send portfolio …

WAIT

HANG ON

BACK TO THE START

_Dear Charles,_

_Thank you for your application to study at the London College of Fashion. Your personal statement was heartfelt and inspiring, and we would like to invite you to send a portfolio of your work for us to consider._

Holy shit

He’d done it

Holy shit

He’d gotten their attention

Ice dripped from his chin as a waterfall dropped from his eyes. 

He hadn’t been offered the place yet, but he was onto the next stage. He’d enticed them enough that they wanted to see his work. 

The London College of Fashion _wanted him_. 

And he wanted nothing more than for them to accept him. Sending them his portfolio would be terrifying because they’d see it without him and he wouldn’t be able to sell himself or his work. And Charles had no idea if they were only looking into him because of his surname. 

Either way, Charles had a portfolio to send.

And an email to send to Carole.

Charles screenshot the email from LCF and attached it onto an email for Carole.

**To: Carole Deveraux**

**Attached: 1 Screenshot**

**Subject: You were right**

**holy shit carole**

Charles knew he shouldn’t swear, especially on an email to a teacher, but Carole had known Charles since he was a little eleven year old, and he’d definitely done worst things over the years that Carole has dealt with. She was probably going to email him back with something in a similar vein. 

Tears dripped onto his fingers as he cradled his sketchbook to his chest. 

This was his baby. His project. His hopes and dreams and future. And now Charles was going to send it into the wild. 

Was this how his parents felt knowing that, in a few months’ time, they’d be sending Valtteri off into the wild? It was a scary idea and Charles was petrified that what he was going to be releasing wasn’t going to be enough. He just had to hope it was. 

Hope.

He’d forgotten what it was like to have hope. 

And yet _they’d_ given it him back. 

It wasn’t until he was settled into bed, his eyes dropping close in the pitch black for longer and longer, that his phone vibrating underneath his pillow startled him awake. It was blistering his vision as he peeked an eye open slightly to read his screen and frantically try to lower his brightness so as to not wake either brother. 

**Carole Deveraux  
To: Charles Räikkönen-Vettel**

**RE: You were right**

**holy shit charles**

**(Also I told you so!! Very proud of you, young man!!)**

A grin worked its way onto his face, and Charles looked over his shoulder. Both of his brothers were fast asleep, but when Charles looked at them both, he knew that they’d be proud of him. 

Charles wondered when he’d be able to tell them about this.

The rest of the winter break, including the short flight from Germany to Finland to see Isä’s family, involved Charles still burying his head in his sketchbook or his iPad, but now he drawing everything up and getting his portfolio ready to send over. Everything had already been digitalised, but doing the set up and actually getting it ready to release to LCF was a whole other nerve-racking process. 

Charles worried every single day that he wasn’t doing the right thing, that he wasn’t ready to approach his future like this. But then he’d see the way that Max was deliberately avoiding him, to the point that he was even going to play ice hockey with Valtteri and their cousins instead of being in the house with Charles, and Charles knew he had to do this.

He had to prove to people that no matter what happened, he was his own person and he had to show everyone that he did whatever he could to save his brother even though he’d been the one to destroy him in the first place. 

None of that could matter whilst Charles got himself in order. 

If LCF accepted him, he’d find a way to open himself up. 

If LCF didn’t accept him, Charles would sit down with his parents and tell them the truth. That he’d tried this and it hadn’t worked out. 

Whether he told them about Mick was a different story. But Charles was starting to understand that people did believe in him, and people wanted him to succeed. And whilst getting rejected from art school would probably do nothing but confirm to Sebastian that Charles wasn’t talented and he didn’t have the grace to do anything well, he’d tried. He’d put his heart and soul into something and it hadn’t paid off. 

But he’d tried. 

And he thought it was about time that he got some credit for trying. 

———

Getting the balls to send the email was the worst one. 

But he knew he had to do it. 

**To: London College of Fashion Admissions Team**

**Attached: Charles Räikkönen-Vettel Portfolio**

**Subject: Application to Study - Portfolio Request**

**Good morning,**

**Please find attached my requested portfolio. I hope you find it enjoyable and look forward to hearing your opinion and verdict.  
**

****

**Kind Regards,**

**Charles Räikkönen-Vettel**

And then it was gone. It was sent into the stratosphere and it was out of his control. But he’d done it. And whilst his stomach was violently threatening to destroy him, Charles knew he’d done the right thing. 

He had to try, even if he was starting to convince himself it was the wrong thing to do. 

He couldn’t prove Sebastian wrong if he had no proof that he could even do it. 

———

The rest of winter break was spent with Charles hiding in his bedroom, trying to convince himself that he could do his English work without Max but was struggling badly. Charles knew he needed help, knew that it was getting to a point that he needed to stop pretending that he didn’t struggle with words because he couldn’t have Max with him always anymore, but he was too full of hubris and he couldn’t ask for help. He couldn’t admit that he was weak and couldn’t even spell some fucking words without having to retry it five, six, or seven times before he ended up just asking Siri how to spell it out for him. Instead he had to focus on himself. He had to focus on understanding how to do things without relying on other people because all that other people did was let him down. 

Charles didn’t need people. He didn’t need whatever Valtteri thought he did. He was fine without talking to people because his life wasn’t _that bad_ in comparison. 

Sure, he still struggled to have physical contact with people that weren’t related to him, but he was doing okay now. Taking care of himself and getting lost in art was the only priority Charles had whilst he waited to hear about his future. 

And keeping Max safe, of course. He’d never not be able to take care of him. 

It wasn’t until they’d gone back to school that first week of January that Charles was going to hear from LCF again. And once they started back, every single day, every single hour and every single second that he was free, Charles was frantically checking his phone. 

LCF was going to email him with either an offer of an interview or a gentle let-down that his portfolio hadn’t been to the standard they wanted. 

Charles hoped with all his heart that it would be the former and not the latter. 

Even seeing Mick at school wasn’t able to stop him from being hopeful. He took a couple hits, both to his body and his mind with the things Mick would say to him, but it couldn’t drag away from the hope in his soul. 

Charles had never been good at not telling Max things. And he knew his twin brother would be the one most well-equipped to help Charles through this magnitude of feelings that he was suffering with as he waited to hear the verdict. But Max still seemed to detest him with every fibre of his soul and Charles couldn’t begin to fathom a way that he could apologise to him.

There was nothing Charles could say that would ever explain to Max what he’d done and why he did it. When it was the right time, Charles was going to sit his brother down and present his sketchbooks for textiles and art, and hope beyond anything that that would begin to explain what went through Charles’ head. He didn’t know how to tell Max all the reasons why he had done what he had and he didn’t know how he was meant to explain to Max what he’d gone through to protect him. 

To Charles it made sense. 

To everyone else, Charles sure they’d see it as yet another dumb, impulsive, stupid error that the stupid idiot of the family had made. Charles didn’t understand why it was a terrible thing, when all he’d been doing was trying to protect Max. 

Surely that was worth something?

Either way, Charles knew that it wouldn’t matter. 

He was the first one up the day that the post came through and Charles had to accept that things were changing in his life. 

It was a Saturday, the end of the first week back from Christmas break. Max was still fast asleep in his bedroom with Daniel (no, they hadn’t left each other’s sides since Max had returned to the country), their dads were still in bed for the first time in forever on a weekend, and Valtteri was somewhere getting ready for hockey practice. 

Charles hadn’t been able to sleep and he didn’t know why. His body was thrumming with energy and he needed to get out of bed. He’d tried to draw, he’d tried to write some French, he’d tried to just fucking exist, but whatever he did wasn’t working, and so instead he listened to his body and stumbled his way downstairs. 

He’d initially been disappointed to see that his Isä wasn’t in the kitchen. He’d been hoping to blag a cup of coffee off him and then hide back in his room. For some reason, Charles was nervous and his mind was racing, and part of him needed to be alone. 

Like a sim that had had full autonomy turned off, Charles awkwardly stood in the kitchen, waiting to figure out what he should do, when he heard something smack the doormat.

Charles never picked up the post. It was one of the things that his dads complained at him for all the time. He’d walk past numerous times, he’d be the only person in the house, and yet the post would continue to sit on the doormat waiting for someone else to come home and relieve it of its tenure. 

But there was something in him that said he had to go and pick it up. 

Amidst the bills and random post that came, one thin envelope with _Charles Räikkönen-Vettel_ emblazoned across it. 

Charles sunk down to sit on the bottom stair and shakily placed the other post beside him. 

This was official. 

This wasn’t just an email anymore. 

He hadn’t even received an email.

_Dear Charles,_

_Thank you for your interest in our BA (Hons) Fashion Design and Development course. We greatly appreciated your portfolio and are pleased to inform you that you have been offered an interview to continue your application._

Had he actually done it?

Charles read it again. 

The words never changed. 

They were offering him an interview. On Thursday 16th January. At 11am. 

Oh God Charles really wanted to throw up right now. 

In five days, he’d walk the corridors of the place he’d been dreaming of for months and he’d finally do more than simply look at the buildings on google maps. He’d finally be in there, exploring them, seeing what he could be in for. 

And in five days, Charles would have to escape from school after Kimi dropped them off, and make his way to the train station to get a train into London. Charles was absolutely petrified. But he had to do this. He had to embrace it and grow up and do something that meant he was going to be out of his comfort zone and trust that for one day, Max and Valtteri wouldn’t notice him missing, nor that Mick would go after Max. 

Charles detested the idea of leaving Max vulnerable, even if he barely even saw his brother anymore, but he was still going to fight to protect him with every fibre of his soul. 

He had just one interview. One chance. One opportunity. 

Only one chance to prove himself to one of the best schools in the world for Fashion and hope beyond anything that he was one of the lucky few that were blessed with a seat in front of those famed machines. 

Five days. 

Five days until he changed his life forever. 

Everything was pinned on this interview. 

Regardless of the outcome, it was going to lead to Charles making some decisions that his Dads might not necessarily agree with, and Max might find detestable, but he was doing something and he could only hope that he was making the right decision. 

The only issue was now, Charles had to wait five days and he’d never been good at being patient.

——

The five days that Charles had to wait where arguably the ones where Charles pulled himself away from everyone the most. 

He could barely eat, barely sleep, and he’d definitely had a breakdown to Carole more times than he should’ve. Part of him was convinced it was all a lie, a hoax, something that Mick had found out about and had given him all the false hope in the world. But when he’d received the email with confirmation as well, Charles knew it was happening. His brain still wouldn’t let him acknowledge it was real though. 

Charles buried himself alone in his room. 

The one good thing to come out of his stressing though was that his room had never been cleaner and for the first time in months, his art supplies were actually organised and his sketchbooks were ordered appropriately on his bookcase. 

Kimi came into his room at one point whilst Charles was mid deep-cleanse, sat on his bed and stared at Charles. He knew he looked frantic, his hair was sticking up in endless spikes and his eyes were tired. But his personality was buzzed and he couldn’t process anything other than the fear of his interview.

Charles had always been good at talking to people, he’d honed his talent whilst growing up as Max’s brother and Sebastian’s son, but the idea of _selling_ himself through his art and his designs was making Charles feel like he didn’t even know how to speak English. 

“What’s up, kid? You never clean like this.”

“I’m okay.”

“Is this about what happened with Max?”

“No, I’m just thinking about the future a lot.”

Kimi grabbed hold of Charles’ arm, someone safe and warm, yet Charles still instinctively froze in fear and it was only when he saw Kimi frown that he pulled his arm free.

“Sorry,” Charles muttered, turning his back on Kimi and going back to reorganising his t-shirt draw. Currently, the plan was to organise it by colour. Charles enjoyed the aesthetic of it.

“Charles, can you stop for a second and just talk to me? We’re worried about you, kiddo.”

“I’m fine, Dad, honestly. Things are good.”

“Charles.”

Charles turned and looked at his Isä, and for the first time, Charles saw the concern. 

Was he concerned about Charles? Why? Charles was fine.

“Dad, it’s okay, you don’t need to worry about me.”

“You’re our baby, Charles. We always worry about you. Somethings going on, isn’t it?”

“I’m stressed about school, Dad, that’s all.”

“So why did you freeze up?” Kimi said, pulling his youngest son onto the bed and wrapping his arm around his shoulders.

“I realised Dad was right,” Charles whispered, “Sleeping around will only lead to things going wrong.”

“What went wrong, Charles?”

“It doesn’t matter, Dad. I’m just tired of breaking relationships up.” Charles rested his head against Kimi’s shoulder and briefly closed his eyes. 

For a moment, he wasn’t stuck here. He was back being a little boy, the one who could fall asleep in the car and then he’d wake up and he’d be in his Daddy’s arms, being carried into the house and to bed, tucked in with all the love and care in the world and a gentle kiss brushed across his hairline. 

“You know you can talk to us, about anything? I know you used to talk to Max, but-”

“Dad, I’m okay. I’m getting there. Is… is Max doing okay?”

“He is. He’s stressed about the mocks at the end of the month and he’s stressed about you. He told me that he still can’t talk to you, that you really hurt him, but he’s worried about you. He said he never sees you around school now?”

“I go to lunch support a lot,” Charles quietly admitted, “I cant do words properly, and Carole mentioned something about my writing when I was doing some English coursework in tutor the other day, and now they think I might have an undiagnosed learning difficulty, so they want to help out.”

“Your spelling,” Kimi realised, “You’ve always struggled with your spelling and your reading. How did we not notice?”

“They don’t know whether I do, they just think that maybe there’s something going on. It would explain stuff, I guess. Explain why I’m a fucking idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot, Charles, it takes you a bit longer to do this stuff, so what? You’re still our son, our amazingly talented little artist. Having something that slows you down with your work a bit doesn’t change any of that.”

“They don’t know yet, I might still be fucking stupid.”

Kimi smacked Charles upside the head and pushed Charles away from him. 

“Stop saying that,” Charles actually had the grace to look away from his Dad for a moment, “If you do, we will do whatever we need to do to help you. And if you don’t, there’s things we can still do to try and help you, _if you want_. Even if it’s getting you a private tutor or something similar to that. You’re important, Charles, and I’m sorry it’s took until now for someone to notice.”

“I don’t want to make a fuss.” Charles whimpered.

“Who are you and what have you done with my Charles? My Charles makes a fuss over everything.”

“I guess I’m finally doing what Dad wants, I’m growing up, taking a leaf out of Max’s book.” He shrugged. 

“Don’t,” Kimi whispered, pressing a kiss to Charles’ temple, “Don’t grow up. You’re still my little boy, never forget that. You don’t have to grow up yet, you’re seventeen, Charles. Have some fun.”

Charles wrapped his arms around Kimi’s waist and hugged him as tight as he could. 

“I love you, Dad.” Charles whispered, barley audibly. 

“I love you too, Charles. More than anything.” Kimi responded, rocking the tiny teenager slowly. He didn’t realise how narrow Charles was now. 

Charles was tiny.

He’d always been small but there was something different about him now.

“I have work to do, Dad,” Charles reluctantly said after a few moments, pushing himself free of Kimi’s arms and kneeling back down on the floor, sorting through his t-shirts. 

Momentarily his hands stalled on one. 

It was a t-shirt he’d made back when he was in year 9, as a little fourteen year old with nimble fingers and floppy hair that looking back on made Charles want to burn every single photo of himself. And yet it was the first time Charles had drawn onto the fabric in a way that tore it away from being a plain white piece of cloth. He’d made it something else. 

He hadn’t done anything special. All he’d done had pulled a bit of art that he’d been studying and transformed it onto the fabric, contrasting the colours and had the patterns fight to be at the forefront. 

Looking at it now, Charles saw how awful it was. Some stitches were a bit loose, not as tight as he’d do now, the colours weren’t exactly appropriate and the neck line was stretched beyond salvation.

But it was the first piece of fashion work he’d ever created that he’d shown to his parents. And they did smile when he’d shown them, hands shaking and voice quiet as though he was terrified they’d take it and throw it to the garbage. 

That had to mean something, didn’t it? That had to show that they thought he had some talent?

“Dad...” Charles said, stopping Kimi just as he walked out of the door.

“What’s up, kid?”

“I want to study fashion.” Charles told him. He didn’t look up, didn’t want to see the disappointment and confusion flash across Kimi’s face. 

“At university?”

Charles nodded. 

He flinched when two arms came around him. He’d never even heard Kimi cross the floor. 

“I’m proud of you. Do it.”

It was the final motivation Charles needed. Whilst he wished it was Max that he was telling this to, to hear it from his Dad, who had been the biggest inspiration for him in terms of embracing his artistic talent and was the most talented artist Charles had ever met, it meant a lot. 

The interview was going to be scary, and he still didn’t feel comfortable telling him that he had the interview lined up. Charles was partly terrified that if he told someone that wasn’t Carole it would all go to shit. Carole had to know. She was the one who would be authorising Charles’ absence from school so his parents didn’t get a phone call asking where he was. Telling his parents and his brothers, however, was a whole different ballgame that Charles didn’t know the rules for. 

Just a couple more days.

A couple more days and he’d be trying for the one thing that he wanted more than anything. 

Aside from validation from his parents and brothers. 

Actually, Charles wanted Max back more than anything. 

But he was still trying to find himself first. And once the LCF Interview was done, maybe he would find himself.

——

Thursday morning.

Thursday 16th January 2020.

The day of his chance to change his life. 

To give himself something to aim for and look forward to. He had his mock results from October printed and ready, his sketchbooks in his backpack, his water bottle with the C on that matched one Max had with an M on it, which matched the one that Valtteri had with a V on. The one thing that united them as siblings. 

And he had a drawing Max had done for him when they were seven years old tapped into the front of the sketchbook. 

He had Max with him even if he couldn’t have him with him physically. 

Charles got up earlier than everyone else on the Thursday. His body was restless from about 5am anyway, and so instead of laying around in bed until 7:30 when his parents would be up making breakfast, Charles pulled some clothes on, stuck his headphones in and decided to head out for a run instead. 

He didn’t run. 

Not anymore.

He’d done athletics when he was younger and liked it fine, but it was never his calling. But when his mind and body were thrumming with energy, sometimes it was the way that he could get it all out. Normally he channelled his frantic energy into art, throwing paint around and making a mess, but on the day in which art could potentially change his life forever, Charles wasn’t exactly feeling spending the morning looking at the one thing that he loved but could tear him apart with just a simple flick of a page. 

Every pound, smack, and thrum of pain coursing through his body hit his very core as he ran. Each step picked up the pace just that bit more, and for once, Charles felt free. He ran and ran and ran until he reached the edge of the universe, until he reached the point of no return. 

He was at the top of a hill, miles away from the house and in a place where it was just him and his thoughts. 

And Charles let loose. 

He screamed and screamed until his vocal cords were ripping and blood was thrumming through him and his heart was echoing louder than his voice. 

“I AM NOT WORTHLESS!” He screamed, the words getting lost in the baronial landscape he was fighting to exist within. 

And for the first time in a long time, Charles felt content. 

“I’m sorry, Max…” He whispered, his voice soft, but the wind picked these words up and carried them all the way home, back to Max and threading themselves through the intricacies of his brain and nesting themselves amongst his dreams. 

Charles dropped to the floor, not caring for the mud and the dew settling against his shorts and his legs. It was as though the cold was ripping his bruises from his skin and relieving him of it all. 

Today was the day he changed everything. 

The universe had to look after him and it started by them taking the pain from his body for a change. 

Charles stretched his legs out in front of him as he stared into the distance, his music playing softly and the birds slowly waking the world. 

It was still dark, mid-January, and the sun wasn’t going to rise for a while, yet the comfort it offered him was worth everything. 

The darkness terrified Max, but it comforted Charles. He could be safe here. 

Eventually he knew he had to get up, to head back home and shower and dress and head to school and yet never attend a class for the day. He was going to check in with Carole and Amy and then get the bus to the train station. He would walk, but he didn’t want to risk it. 

When Charles got home, there was still no noise and he successfully sneaked himself back in. Automatically, his feet tried to carry him through to Max, his head telling him to go and climb into his big brother’s bed and fall asleep to Max’s gentle whispers. But then he remembered he couldn’t do that anymore. 

His brother still hated him. 

Charles didn’t blame him. 

He hated himself. 

Instead he walked through to the bathroom and started the shower. It was weird to not go to Max. 

Charles really missed him. 

At first, Charles didn’t really know what to wear for his interview. They’d told him casual, told him not a suit and that they wanted him to come in clothes he felt showed him as a person. 

If Charles had his way, he’d wear those black and white checked pyjama pants that he spent 90% of the time in trying to convince his dads they were proper trousers. But he didn’t want an argument on the day he was most terrified. 

Instead, Charles pulled on some dark blue trousers with a white box print all over them, a plain grey t-shirt (that was definitely Max’s) and a cream shirt over it, rolling the sleeves up to make it more casual. Then he pulled on socks and his black vans, scruffed his hair appropriately messy but still good, and looked himself over. He looked good, he knew that. He just hoped that LCF agreed. 

Charles looked at the jackets hanging up when he went downstairs, his mind automatically drifting to his duffle coat. His mind was then filled with all the memories of when he’d worn it last coming running back to haunt him and Charles nearly threw up right there on the doormat. And he didn’t exactly think his Dads would be impressed if Charles threw up on the doormat. 

Instead, he pulled a bomber jacket from the selection, and hung it over his backpack that he placed at the front door in waiting. 

That would do. 

He’d be happy with that. 

Now he had to wait. 

——

Charles’ leg wouldn’t stop bouncing the entire time that Kimi drove them to school. Valtteri was sat in the back with Charles, glancing over at him every now and again whilst Max was sat in silence in the front. 

It was the quietest it had been in the car in a long time. 

By the time Kimi was pulling up, Charles wasn’t sure if his leg was stuck on jackrabbit mode and there would be a hole in the flooring of Kimi’s very fancy Alfa Romeo. Luckily, it seemed as though Charles was refrained from destroying the car with his anxiety. 

“See you later, Dad,” all three boys echoed. 

Charles took a deep breath as he clutched his backpack straps tightly. He’d been carrying his sketchbook with him everywhere for years, yet for the first time, Charles was consciously aware of it smacking against his back with every step, as he walked towards the building he’d be walking back out of soon. 

They went to a fancy private school that his dads paid a lot of money for the three boys to attend, and Charles wondered if this would be the place that you’d see in ten years time as credited when asked where Charles Räikkönen-Vettel had honed his talent of sewing and creating at such a young age. 

He hoped so. 

As much as his school wasn’t perfect, no school ever was, he did like it. It was okay. And it gave him Carole and Amy and his brothers a chance to be embraced and encouraged beyond anything else. 

Charles had to credit his school for that. They did a lot to make his brothers happy. 

Valtteri was walking by his side for most of the journey down, and Charles wasn’t entirely sure why. Lewis was not too far ahead and normally Valtteri would walk off to go and join him, the two nervously smiling at each other and never admitting they wanted to do more than just smile with each other. But Valtteri also kept giving Charles a slightly shifty look, as though he knew that Charles was going to be skipping school for the day, and he didn’t know how or why. 

“Charles! How are you feeling?” Carole said the second Charles walked through the door. Amy was sat on top of a desk beside Carole’s, both of them looking at him with hopeful expressions. 

“I’m absolutely terrified,” He told them, his voice cracking and his eyes going red, “I’m going to fuck it up, I know I am.”

“No you’re not,” Amy told him, holding her arm up for Charles to come closer. 

Charles slid onto the desk beside her and she held his hand comfortingly. Charles knew she wasn’t meant to do that, that if someone higher up saw they’d be investigating it, but there was nothing more than a maternal love for him that she was exhibiting. 

“You are absolutely, bloody brilliant, I would not have let you do this if I didn’t think you’d get into London, Charles. You are exactly the kind of person they want, and when you go, speak from your heart and tell them why you want LCF. Speak about what makes you _you_. Speak about Max, and Val, and your dads, and Charlotte and us, and whatever else you need to. Because you can do this, because there are people back here that want this for you more than anything.”

“Really?” Charles whispered, looking between Carole and Amy with fear and uncertainty.

He’d never felt like he was missing out because he didn’t have a mum. He didn’t need one. He got more than enough love and attention from his dads and his brothers. But when he looked at Amy and Carole, he knew they were why. They wanted the best for him in the same way his Dads did. 

“Of course. You’re my most talented student I’ve had, Charles, and Carole would agree that you have such a uniqueness to you that you will be spoilt for choice when other colleges hear about you. They’re all going to want you because they know what you can do. Colleges talk, Charles. And colleges talk to industries. I want to see you out there in a few years talking about your work because that’s what you deserve. I am so proud of you, we both are. And you’re going to absolutely smash it, okay?” Amy told him, and Charles had to look down. He couldn’t look up and see the pride on their faces. It was embarrassing.

He liked being the centre of attention but he didn’t like people praising him. He wasn’t good at that stuff. But he liked that they believed in him. 

Especially enough that they both thought it would only be a matter of years before his work was up on runways with different brands and industries fighting to get the one and only Charles Räikkönen-Vettel. 

“Right, Charles, it’s time. Best of luck,” Carole said, standing up and drawing Charles into a hug. Charles hugged her back. 

Maybe hugs were good. Charles was starting to enjoy them now. 

“Thank you, thank you both,” He whispered as he pulled back, smiling with teary eyes at them both. 

“You can do this,” Carole promised and Amy nodded. 

“You’re not a Räikkönen-Vettel for nothing, Charles. That name makes you special. You can do this. Your brothers want you to do this.”

And Charles thought that for once, they were actually right.

He should listen to these ladies more often.

Charles smiled at them a final time and pushed himself off the table. 

“I’ll see you later,” Charles promised. 

Charles walked back down the corridors, smiled at a couple people, but kept going until he reached the doors to exit. 

“Where do you think you’re going?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)
> 
> kudos, comments and feedback always greatly appreciated. 
> 
> tumblr at 3303andmore if you want to shout at me for the cliffhanger


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **CONTENT WARNINGS: playing with your emotions**
> 
> 😏😏😏

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Charles froze as he swiped his ID Card to leave.

“Charles, I asked you a question.”

Charles turned slowly, looking at the source of the voice.

“For a walk.”

“To the London College of Fashion, by any chance?” 

“How did you know?”

Charles watched as a piece of paper was pulled out of his pocket and he instantly recognised what it was.

“You got it on Saturday. I saw you reading it. Why didn’t you tell us?”

“Valtteri please, it’s not what it looks like.”

“It looks like you’ve been applying to university and didn’t trust any of us enough to tell us. Did you think we wouldn’t be proud of you? That we wouldn’t let you?”

“Dad won’t.”

“Yes he would because he wants you to be happy!” Valtteri shouted, grabbing Charles’ arms, “We all just want you to fucking smile again. You and your happiness are what is important. Why didn’t you tell us?”

“Because then when they reject me, I can cry by myself and no one else will be upset or insufferable. I just want to give this a chance without everyone expecting things from me and none of you can be disappointed in me when I don’t get in.”

“We won’t be disappointed _in_ you, you idiot. We’ll be disappointed _for_ you.”

Charles shrugged and looked down at his trainers. 

“I’m proud of you, little one,” Valtteri said, pulling his little brother into a hug. “How long have you been hiding this?”

“Since Dad’s Gala,” Charles reluctantly admitted, “I don’t want anyone to know. Please don’t tell Dads and Max.”

Valtteri smiled sadly at his little brother and ran his fingers through his hair. 

“I’m not letting you go by yourself, to this interview, I mean. You are talented and you’re good enough to get in, but if you’re doing this, I’m going to support you every step of the way. But you’re not doing this by yourself.”

“I can go by myself, Val, it’s okay. I’m a big boy and it’s in London, and I don’t want you to miss class.”

“If you’re missing class, we’re both missing class. You’re my baby brother, Charles, I’m not letting you do this on your own. It’s my job to take care of you, both of you, regardless of how fucking stupid you both can be,” Valtteri promised.

Charles buried his head in Valtteri’s shoulder and smiled. 

“Are you sure?”

“More sure than anything, Chubby,” Valtteri smiled. 

Charles pushed himself away from Valtteri after a moment and started walking back up the driveway. Valtteri walked silently at his side.

“Is this why you kept staring at me this morning?”

“I was waiting for you to say something,” Valtteri shrugged, “I get why you haven’t, but you should’ve at least told me.”

“I didn’t want to tell anyone, Val. Charlotte knew I applied and then Amy and Carole knew that I had the interview and that, but I didn’t want anyone else to know. Especially not after what’s happened with Max lately.”

“He’d be proud of you, you know that, right?”

“I think he’d rather I died in a ditch right now, but sure.”

“He’s stressed and anxious and he doesn’t know how to fix things with you. But he’s still proud of you, we all are. But Max and you, you’re this little duo and sometimes growing up as your big brother was the hardest thing in the world. Because you two together are absolute chaos, but you do amazing things, and you make each other better.”

“Did you ever regret Dad and Isä adopting us?”

“I did when you were little. You were the fucking worst especially,” Valtteri said as they climbed onto the bus that pulled up perfectly on time, “You don’t remember, probably, but when Dads brought you home, you were a nightmare. You never stopped screaming whenever they tried to separate you and Max.”

“No, that was Max, he used to freak out when I left.”

“Charles, it really wasn’t,” Valtteri told him, and with the look on Valtteri’s face, he could tell his brother wasn’t lying to him. 

“I swear it was Max.”

“He used to follow you around and cling onto you at school, yeah, but when you first came home, you didn’t want him to be anywhere but by your side. You were awful.”

“I don’t remember, I only remember Max-”

“He screamed when they took you for your surgery when you broke your leg,” Valtteri said, “That was the only time he ever screamed, Charles. He never used to scream when Dad or Isä moved you away from him or the other way round, it was always you. You used to scream the house down.”

Charles fell quiet. Had it really been that way all along? Had it been Charles who was the one with separation anxiety as a kid? Every part of him screamed that it was Max. He was the one with social anxiety. He was the one who struggled in new places. He was the one who used to follow Charles around.

However, deep down, Charles knew that actually he’d been the one that needed his brother the most. Max needed Charles for support, there was no denying that, but it was Charles who relied on his brother to stay safe and be happy. If Max was okay, then Charles knew that he would be okay.

“But then you two grew up, and you’re brilliant. The pair of you. Max is amazing, we all know that, but you’re amazing too. LCF wouldn’t be considering you if you weren’t, Chub.”

“If I don’t get in, never mention it ever again,” Charles said solemnly, “Whether I get in or not, I don’t know yet. But if I don’t, don’t bring it back up again, okay? This is another thing I want to pretend isn’t happening.”

Valtteri nodded and Charles dropped his head to rest on his big brother’s shoulder. The rest of the journey to LCF was quiet between them. Charles nervously thumbed through his sketchbook once they were on the train, his fingers lingering over the drawing from Max and the small family photo that he’d forgotten he’d stuck in there. Kimi had an arm around Sebastian, Valtteri was stood at the side of Sebastian, and the twins in front of them, Kimi’s free hand resting on Max’s shoulder and Seb’s on Charles’ shoulder. Matching grins covered the Twins faces, slightly cheeky, slightly mischievous, but you could tell that the three boys were loved by the parents. 

That’s why Charles was doing this. To prove to his Dads and his brothers and, most importantly, himself that he could be happy and he could do anything he put his mind to. It was time to ignore Mick, to ignore everything he’d done and embrace change and happiness. 

Kimi didn’t want Charles to grow up, but he knew he had to. He couldn’t be a kid forever. He’d always be their kid, but Charles knew, in his heart, that he had to change himself to be a better person in order to be able to embrace his changing world. It had been a long time since Charles had been able to look in the mirror and not focus on the aesthetics of himself. He wanted to be able to look at himself and be proud for who he was and not be proud for how many people fight over sleeping with him. 

In time he’d come back to embracing sex and embracing his body, but first he had to embrace himself and his own happiness. 

And that meant using LCF to get there, regardless of the outcome. 

Once they’d disembarked the train, Charles clutched his backpack straps in his hands and followed after his brother, walking through the station, weaving between people and trying to avoid losing his brother in the concrete jungle wilderness of London. 

Valtteri tried to talk to Charles as they walked, but he could see Charles’ eyes growing increasingly more frantic the closer that Google Maps pulled them closer. 

“I can’t do it,” Charles whispered, stopping abruptly in the street as the buildings loomed ominously above them. “Val I can’t do it.”

Tears ripped from his eyes as he looked up at the place that could be his future. Charles wanted this more than anything and yet the prospect of not being good enough to get in was enough to turn Charles off from art and fashion forever. 

If he didn’t get in, he’d lose his happiness. 

He needed this and yet he was still convinced he wasn’t going to be _enough_ to get in. 

Valtteri didn’t say anything to Charles. Instead, he gently unweaved his fingers from the straps and took his baby brother's hand in his. 

“We’re going to walk into that building. We’re going to go to the desk. And we’re going to tell them who you are. That’s all we need to do.” 

Valtteri waited until Charles was ready and then the two of them slowly started to walk.

Charles never let go of Valtteri’s hand the entire time.

“Hiya! Are you here for the Fashion Design and Development interviews?” Someone dressed in a bright orange STUDENT AMBASSADOR t-shirt enthusiastically asked.

“Yes,” Charles whispered.

“Excellent, can I get your name please mate? And is this your brother?”

“Yeah, yeah this is Valtteri,” Charles introduced shakily, “I’m Charles, er, Charles Räikkönen-Vettel.”

“Oh my god you’re the Räikkönen boy. Your portfolio was amazing! That dress you drew, wow! It was beautiful!” The student said, grinning widely at Charles, “You’re going to get in so easy, and if they don’t, I’m going to find you and stare at you until you make that dress, it was stunning!”

Charles blushed under the praise and fidgeted slightly. This was a complete stranger and yet they saw the beauty and talent in him, and Charles thought that Valtteri had never looked prouder of him than he had in that moment.

“I’ll take you through to where we’re doing the interviews, your brother can come too,” she said, smiling at the way she saw the youngster gripping onto his big brother like he was the only thing keeping him alive and with his feet on the ground. 

It was all starting to feel a bit real now. 

They sat themselves down on some chairs and Charles looked around at the other potential students with their portfolio folders sat beside them. They’d all brought their parents with them, some looked very happy and some looked positively terrified. 

Charles wondered how he looked, with nothing but his big brother and his backpack weighing down on his lap to remind him that his sketchbook was always going to be there to comfort and remind him of good times. 

Charles refused to let go of Valtteri’s hand the entire time, and he knew he probably looked a bit weird, but part of him genuinely believed that if he let go of Valtteri, Charles’ mind would convince him to scarper and never come back. 

“Val?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you like Lewis?”

“Yeah he’s a good mate, why?”

“No I mean like, do you _like_ him?” Charles emphasised. 

“This stays between us, alright?" Valtteri sighed, knowing that he could never deny his little brother's wide doe eyes at all, "But yeah, I do. And I don’t know if or when I’d ever tell him, but I do. And he’s great, I know you’ve got old beef with him-”

“Slept with that German-Finnish kid that came over for like 5 weeks,” Charles admitted, “Apparently Lewis kept trying to get a date with him but he couldn’t and then the kid slept with me straight away.”

“You gotta stop stealing people’s boyfriends, Charles.”

“Not important, we’re talking about you right now.”

“I do like him,” Valtteri reluctantly admitted, once he saw the intense stare of Charles, “Like I said, I know you’ve got old beef with him because of the whole sleeping thing and you not liking him winning something, but he’s nice. Once you get under his barriers and get to know him, he’s really kind.”

“He is,” Charles agreed, thinking back to when Lewis had looked after him at the gala, “If you want to be with him, we’ll be happy, you know that right? Just like we was happy for Max.”

“I want to focus on school, Charles, I’ve got other things to worry about before Lewis.”

“Don’t drown yourselves in an inability to talk to the people you love and care about the most,” Charles told him, “It’ll only come back to haunt you.”

Valtteri looked at Charles suspiciously, wondering what Charles was hinting at.

“Did you invite him to the Gala?” Charles asked instead of allowing him to dwell on it all. 

“Yeah, yeah I did. Entirely selfishly. I didn’t even tell Dad he was coming. I just knew it was an opportunity to see him in a suit and I needed to see that.”

Charles grinned at the love struck expression on Valtteri’s face and nudged him slightly. 

“Aww you got it bad, lickle Val has a crush!” Charles sang, leaning up to pinch his brothers round and frantically reddening cheeks. 

“Shut up before I bash you with your sketchbook.”

Charles grinned and dropped his hand back down. 

“I am happy you’re happy. You and Max, you deserve it. You both work so fucking hard.”

“You deserve it too, Chub. Don’t deny yourself it.”

Charles fell silent again, dropping his head back onto Valtteri’s shoulder and thinking deeply. 

Did he really deserve happiness?

Of course he did. He wouldn’t be sat here if he didn’t think so. 

“Charles Raikkonen-Vettel?” His name came through as the clock ticked over to 11am exactly. 

Charles immediately turned to Valtteri and his breathing picked up. All his previous relaxation gone and in its place was an immense amount of fear as everyone's eyes swizzled towards him. Whether it was because of his surname or because they could all hear his building panic, he had no idea, but it was as though he was drowning under the weight of the eyes and the only thing keeping him up was Valtteri's hand tightening on his fingers. 

“I can’t do it.”

Valtteri tugged his brother into him, held him tight against his chest and kissed his fluff of hair. 

“Go and get yourself a university place, little one. Do it for you. No one else, just for you” Valtteri said, gently calming him down.

Charles screwed his face up for a moment, breathed in the heavy cedarwood and cinnamon and general earthiness that came from Valtteri, and then let out a long slow breath.

Valtteri never said good luck to him. But Charles liked that. Saying good luck implied that there was a chance something wouldn’t go well, and instead Valtteri told him to get a place. To go in there and smash the interview. 

He had to do this.

He had to wipe the smug smiles off their faces when his family realised Charles could do this without them.

He took a final deep breath and then walked in. His head held high and his sketchbook held loosely in his fingers, walking through with a tiny smirk on his face and confidence exceeding from every single pour of his being.

This was it.

This was his revolution.

——

“Why do you want to study fashion?” Jean, one of the course leaders, asked once they’d settled in and Charles was comfortable. 

He was leant back in his chair, his knees slightly spread and his fingers toying with the corner of his sketchbook whilst he thought about his answer. 

“I have a twin brother. We’re not identical but we get compared in every single way. I love him more than anyone else. He’s my best friend and, honestly? He’s my role model. He’s amazing. I’ve done some bad things to him, especially recently, but he’s everything to me.

“But when you’re a twin, no matter if you're identical or not, half of you is always half of them. And fashion was the way I could be me. I could separate myself and be a different person and suddenly I wasn’t Max’s twin brother anymore. I was me. I had a personality and a life by myself for once and it’s the only thing I’ve ever been good at. Art in any form is me. I can do art. It speaks to me in the same way words and numbers speak to my brothers. 

“My Isä has a PhD in fine art, and ever since my dads adopted me, it’s been the only thing that I shared with either one of them. I’m not smart. I’m nothing special. But put some pencils and a pair of jeans in front of me and I’ll make them into something you’ve never seen before. Because that’s what I am. I’m something that no one’s seen before. I always get left behind, even though I seem like I’m centre stage. For once, I just want to stand out. I want to be the special one and fashion is how I can do that.”

Jean looked across at Darren, the two of them smiling momentarily at each other before turning back to Charles. 

“What’s the hardest part about being Max’s twin brother?”

“Accepting that no matter what I do, I’ll never be as good as him in my parents eyes. They love me. They do. But my Dad doesn’t understand me, and my Isä supports me. And I guess part of that is my fault, I'm quite closed-off and letting my Dad in terrifies the living daylights out of me, but I know he loves me, even if we don't understand each other. But they will always put Max first, and Valtteri, the brother I bought with me today. And that’s okay. It hurts, but it’s okay.”

“What’s something you love about fashion?”

“Cohesion,” Charles answered without hesitation. “I know a lot of people say the uniqueness, the customisability, the chance to create something new. And I love creating something that is unique, but if you can put something together, an entire line or just an outfit, and it’s completely different to anything you’ve ever seen before yet has that element of being something everyone would own and can still be the one thing that makes you stand out from the crowds more than anything, there’s a special kind of magic in that.”

Darren motioned for Charles’ sketchbook and said, 

“May I?”

Charles slid it across and smiled. 

“Who is this?” Darren asked as he opened the cover.

“That’s my family, and a drawing my twin did for me when we were seven. He’s never been artistic, he’s got the kind of crazy head that makes him a academic genius. But I have kept that drawing in every single one of my main sketchbooks I have had since I was ten? Like nine or ten years old? He’s my motivation.”

“What does art mean to you?” Darren asked, “Not fashion, just art.”

“I always need to be doing something, I need to get my hands going so that what’s in my head gets out. I don’t necessarily mean a design or a composition, I just mean the things that go through my head and I worry about. When I’m doing art, it’s like nothing can go wrong. It’s freeing. It’s a chance to just lose myself, for a little bit.” Charles shrugged, “I don’t understand numbers and science and words like everyone else does, but I understand fabric and sewing and paint. It’s a language I love, and it gives me a homelier experience than speaking any of the languages my dads taught us. We grew up trilingual, but art is the language I love the most.”

The interview continued for a while longer, Charles making them laugh a few times and also losing track of his thoughts more than once when Darren or Jean would flip a page and see something that he’d created. 

“You have an amazing raw talent, Charles. Absolutely amazing,” Darren said, sliding the sketchbook back across to him. 

“And you understand fashion better than half the students we’ve ever taught to graduation, and you’re only seventeen. The ideas behind it, not just the things you create. That’s something I like to see, especially in such a young talent,” Jean nodded in agreement. 

Charles took his sketchbook into his arms and cradled it against his front like a baby. 

“And, I have been refraining from asking, but, Räikkönen?” Jean asked, grinning slightly and if Charles didn’t know any better, he’d almost think she looked embarrassed.

“Yeah, Kimi Räikkönen, the graffiti dude. That’s my Isä, he’s taught me a lot,” Charles grinned.

“He’s an amazing artist, you’re very lucky to have had him around to help you learn your craft.”

Charles nodded and stood up. The interview was over now and he was on cloud nine. It had been fifteen minutes of perfection. Better than he could have ever imagined. 

“Oh, Charles? That drawing you’ve done, the one where you’re mixing Kandinsky’s work with a portrait, it’s absolutely stunning. But I must ask, who’s the subject?” Darren said as Charles reached for the handle to walk out of the room. 

Charles smiled and told them who it was. Darren and Jean both grinned.

“That’s amazing, Charles.”

And with that, Charles turned his back on them and left. 

He walked over to Valtteri who was slumped in the chair and playing on his phone, his thumbs flying across the screen in a way that meant that he was probably texting Lewis. 

“How did it go?” He asked, straightening up when Charles walked over.

“Smashed it,” Charles said. Confidence, relief and exuberance falling from every feature as tears pricked his eyes. 

“That’s my boy,” Valtteri whispered, dragging Charles back into his arms and hugging him tightly. 

It was now just a waiting game to find out whether he’d done enough to actually get in. And Charles hoped beyond all hell that he had. 

This was the first time that he’d ever spoken freely and without even a hint of reservation about his art and desires for the future. 

And he’d done everything he could to convince Jean and Darren that accepting him onto the course was going to be the best thing that they could ever do. They’d looked hooked on him since he gave his answer to their first question, when Charles had poured his heart out on why he wants to study fashion. 

He just hoped beyond all hell that that would be enough for them to offer him a place. He really fucking hoped it was. 

——

The wait for the decision was going to take a while, but Charles actually ended up appreciating it. He’d put in the effort and done all he could to encourage LCF to accept him, and now it was in the fates of everyone else. 

Charles was terrified at first and ended up climbing into bed beside Valtteri on the Thursday night, folding himself against his brother’s side and quietly flicking through his sketchbook. Valtteri hadn’t said a word, which was standard Valtteri behaviour, but instead rested his arm around Charles’ shoulder and brushed his fingers through Charles’ hair whilst he edited an essay on his laptop. 

They had two weeks of mock exams starting up on Monday and Valtteri also had an essay due in mid-way through, so whilst he needed to look after his anxious baby brother, he’d still had to do work which Charles appreciated. He needed something normal in his life and Valtteri was the one thing that Charles could always rely on to be normal. 

“I want to talk to Max,” Charles told him, his eyes lingering on the dress drawing that everyone was obsessed with.

“He won’t talk to you unless Daniel is there,” Valtteri said.

“I can deal with that. I just, I need to apologise to him.”

“Probably.” Valtteri shrugged.

Whatever happened between the twins they could only sort it out between themselves when they were both ready. 

Charles ended up falling asleep on Valtteri’s bed, something he hadn’t done since he was a little kid. He’d curled around the pillow and clutched the blanket tightly between his fingers, and for the first time in months, Charles’ head let him go to sleep peacefully.

When he woke the next morning, Valtteri was already up and about, and he smiled at Charles when Charles clumsily sat up, only to slip on the pillow and fall back onto the mattress and have to push himself up again. 

“How you feeling today?”

“It feels like an absolute fever dream, like, I can’t believe this happened. I did it, Val, I actually applied. And I did the interview. And they _liked me_.”

“You really should show Dad your sketchbooks. No one has ever seen them, has Max even seen it?”

“He’s seen a couple of the drawings, but never the finished stuff or any of the actual concepts, he’s only seen the drafts.”

“I know art makes you vulnerable, but let us in. Show Dad what art means to you. I don’t understand art, but I know I understand you. And I understand your artwork because of it. If you get into LCF, you’re going to have a goal and you’re going to have something that Dad is going to brag about until the end of time. His boy got accepted into LCF, he’s going to tell everyone, Charles.”

“He doesn’t want me to be in the fashion world, Val.”

“No, he doesn’t want you to apply to a university that won’t push you. The art schools you’ve mentioned in the past, Charles, they’re fine schools but they’re not right for you. They’re not going to push you to the limit of your talent and then stretch you far beyond it. LCF will. LCF is the kind of university that he wanted you to apply for and you wouldn’t listen when he’d tried to talk to you about it.”

Charles frowned as he listened to Valtteri. Was that the truth?

He wasn’t given long to dwell on it as Valtteri continued, 

“You’ve never given any indication that you’re actually serious about art or fashion, and so he thinks you’re doing it to just be a brat. But you need to show him what this means to you, Charles. Otherwise he’s never going to stop telling you to grow up and start being serious about things, because at the minute, no one thinks you’re serious about anything. And you drive Dad absolutely batshit crazy with your attitude, but he loves you, Charles, even if you are an absolute nightmare sometimes.”

Charles looked down at his lap and started pulling the blanket between his fingers.

“Does he really?”

“We want you to be happy, Charles. It’s time to start letting yourself be happy.”

Charles could feel himself growing emotional at his brother’s speech. He’d never had the best bond with Valtteri, and Charles hated that he’d never made the effort. Valtteri was amazing, and Charles understood why he was the captain of the Hockey Team. You couldn’t give amazing speeches that made you feel like the most special person on the planet without being a captain of something. 

The door crashing open stopped Charles responding however. 

“Val? Have you seen Charles?” Max said, looking at him with wide and panicked eyes.

Charles looked over at him and frowned.

“What’s wrong?” Charles asked, dragging Max’s attention over to him.

Why was Max panicking?

“I thought you’d ran off...” Max breathed, throwing himself at Charles and wrapping his arms around him as best as he could.

Charles dragged his arms up and hugged Max back, his brother clutching onto him like they hadn’t been ignoring each other for the three and a half weeks. Confusion ebbed through him as Max held into him.

“I’m still here, why would I have run off?”

“You vanished yesterday, you weren’t anywhere at school.”

Charles closed his eyes as he cradled the other half of himself close, nosing Max’s hair where it tickled his face.

“I’m here, Maxy, I’m here. I’m not leaving you yet.”

Max hadn’t come home with them at the end of the day, instead he’d stayed at school for a while longer so that he could go over to Daniel’s with him after his training finished, and so had never seen Charles by time he’d gotten back to school. And when Max had come home from Daniel’s, Charles had been hiding under his desk with his blanket wrapped over his head looking at the student finance that he was entitled to in when you were a student living in London. 

If Max had only looked in and saw Charles’ bed empty, the sheets not slept in and his backpack he took everywhere not dumped across the floor, it made sense that he thought Charles had gone somewhere. But the fact that Max thought he’d actually ran off rather than having left their house to go to a party emphasised how much Charles had changed recently. 

“I don’t want you to leave,” Max whispered, “I’m sorry for punching you.”

“I’m sorry for being an absolute arsehole to you. What I said, shit Max, it was the fucking worst. I hated myself so badly for it, and you’re my brother, you know? I couldn’t give less of a shit if you need therapy or not, it doesn’t change anything about how I feel about you. I shouldn’t have said what I said and I shouldn’t have pushed you away when you were trying to help.”

“I’ve missed you...” Max whimpered.

Charles felt a tear drop, rolling through the fields of Max’s hair as he tried to stop himself from breaking down. 

“I’ve missed you too, so much. I can’t get over what I did to you. I just, I really acted like the worst fucking person on the planet, and you didn’t deserve it,” Charles said, his voice thick with emotion, “You’re not a freak and you’re not weak, and you do so much for so many people and I hate that I fucked everything up. You’re my brother and I hated that I destroyed us, Max. These past three weeks has been the worst time of my life and I can’t stop thinking about the fact that it’s all my fault.”

“I didn’t help either,” Max said, pushing himself up and looking at Charles, “I shouldn’t have pushed you when you weren’t ready to talk.”

“I don’t care, Max, you didn’t do anything wrong. I’m not good at talking about myself, and I need to change that.”

“I can help,” Max promised, “I can’t go through this again Charles.”

“We’ll figure something out, Lion.” Charles agreed, “But yeah, never again.”

Charles pulled Max back into him, hugging him as hard as he could and feeling his soul start to heal, whilst he buried his face in Max’s hair, crying silently whilst Max sobbed into his chest. Valtteri had silently watched the twins talk, and whilst there was a still a lot they needed to talk about, they’d made a start. 

He climbed onto the bed, wrapping himself around the twins and cradling his little brothers to him. 

“My stupid idiots,” Valtteri mumbled, “Pair of you are fucking stupid.”

“Runs in the family,” Max joked before Charles could, his eyes red and his cheeks flushed, “I don’t see you talking to Lewis.”

Valtteri went bright red as the twins giggled shakily. 

Their dads were stood in the door, Kimi’s arms wrapped around Seb’s waist from behind with his chin resting on Seb’s shoulder, smiling at the three boys curled up in each other’s arms and smiling whilst Valtteri desperately tried to smother Max and Charles with a pillow by failing massively. 

If Charles closed his eyes, for a moment, things were normal and he could let himself hope that things would continue to be okay. 

It wasn’t okay, and Charles still had a feeling that something was going to go wrong, because that was what Charles was. He was a mess that couldn’t fix things easily. But he’d made a start, and all he had to do was start talking. 

It would just take something going badly wrong again for Charles to realise that starting to talk had to happen quicker than he was expecting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So can y’all stop shouting at me for thinking it was going to be Mick that stopped him now😂?
> 
> But yeah, next chapter is going to go back to The Torture :)
> 
> Kudos, comments and feedback are always greatly appreciated.
> 
> Come at shout at my tumblr 3303andmore if you’re angry at me for the way I’ve ended this chapter too😂


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **CONTENT WARNINGS: Reference to self-harm/self-destructive behaviours, physical violence, verbal abuse, derogatory language, reference to sexual assault  
> **
> 
> it's gonna be a rough one bois

Charles should’ve known that nothing could ever happen on his terms. 

He’d planned on talking to them, he really did, but he’d hoped it could be when he was more comfortable. 

But _he_ had to go and fuck everything up, didn’t he? Nothing could ever go right for Charles and he was starting to think this was the universe telling him that he would never do anything right nor would he ever be able to do anything but fucking destroy people’s happiness. And Charles really hadn’t meant to do what he did, but he’d panicked and Max was in danger and he’d acted without thinking and now there was a chance that despite him and Max only just making up, he’d ruined everything before it even started. 

And all because _he_ couldn’t let Charles be happy.

——

Going into school on the Friday morning, Charles had felt at ease. 

After the interview the previous day and talking to Max in the morning, Charles felt good. Life was starting to look like it would be okay.

Previous experience should’ve told Charles that things going good would never last, nor would his happiness lead to anything but horrifying things happening. 

Charles had walked through the corridors, Max by his side and Daniel making jokes as they walked, and he felt okay with it. Max was holding onto Daniel, their hands swinging as they walked and even though the idea of holding onto anyone that wasn’t his brothers made him want to throw up and scream and panic, seeing Max happy made Charles realise that whilst what he’d done was incredibly stupid and dangerous, he’d made his brother happy and kept him safe, and that was what mattered. 

“So, are you two good now?” Daniel asked.

“I think so,” Max nodded.

“Good, because you know I love you, Maxy, but I don’t want you crying down the phone at 2am anymore because you can’t say hi to your brother,” Daniel replied, which had Max blush.

“Yeah, well, I missed him.”

“I know baby, I’m just saying, you two are as stupid as each other sometimes and you should’ve spoke to each other before now. You two need each other, you complete each other,” Daniel said. 

The words Daniel were saying should’ve sounded slightly cruel, slightly cold, but it wasn’t. He was looking at the twins with worry and concern splashed across his face, and Charles didn’t realise how much of an impact the twins arguing had on everyone else. Their dads and Valtteri had suffered, of course they did, they lived with the twins after all. But Daniel had suffered, and Charlotte had constantly frowned when she saw the exhausted expression on Charles’ face, and Lewis had even checked on him a couple times. The three people who meant a lot to each of the three brothers and even they had been affected.

Charles was starting to realise also that people weren’t lying to him when they said they loved them. It was more than just his brothers giving a shit about him, it was finding people like Charlotte who just actually wanted to hang out with him for fun and not to use him for personal gain. And Charles understood now why his Dad never liked his friends. Charles was seeing the toxic nature of them and how he had slowly started to self-destruct to a point that Charles didn’t recognise that boy anymore. 

All he had cared about was getting drunk, sleeping with someone new, and ditching school without his dads finding out. And when you were not even seventeen yet and still destroying yourself whilst not listening to or allowing the people that loved you most, it made sense why his Dad got frustrated with him before he'd started year 12. 

Charles was a brat. He knew that. 

And he needed to sit down and talk to his Dad without anyone else around, and he needed to control his temper around his Dad if he said something that annoyed Charles, because he needed to understand what it was that his Dad was frustrated by. 

Valtteri had mentioned Charles’ inability to listen and Max had mentioned how all Charles ever did was complain, but Charles didn’t realise just how bad his behaviour had gotten until he pulled himself away. He’d been frustrated in the fact that his family hadn’t noticed, but how was they meant to notice that he was becoming quieter when they didn’t know who he was anyway? Now he understood that in order to truly appreciate the impact of what had happened over the recent months, he had to understand what it was that he’d done and changed in himself to frustrate both his family and himself.

Charles knew that if he had start talking about self-destructive behaviour, whatever this was with Mick had to be at the forefront of it. 

He’d never thought that he’d self-harmed. Never pressed a blade against his skin or tugged at his hair to the point that he was ripping it out. Never. He’d never harm himself.

But that’s what this was. 

All the sleeping around and the drinking and the dangerous environments he’d put himself in had ultimately cultivated in Charles embracing the ultimate form of self-harm. He’d allowed himself to become a punchbag, a ventilation system for someone’s anger. And Charles didn’t know why he’d allowed himself to reach this stage. 

Well that’s a lie. 

He did know why he had. 

He’d let himself reach this stage because he thought he deserved it after what he’d allowed Max to suffer through. He couldn’t very well be angry with himself for letting Max get verbally battered to the point that Charles was terrified something was going to happen to him without seeing the repercussions shatter his brother every day still and not feel guilty for it. 

There were days that Max would be walking through school, holding Daniel’s hand or even just quietly talking to him, and he’d freeze upon seeing Jenson or another like-minded individual who had made his life hell. There were days that the omniscient presence on Max’s shoulder told him he wasn’t good enough for Dan and that ultimately Charles was going to swoop in and steal him one day. There were days that Max struggled to want to get out of bed because the idea of going into the outside world where everyone expected him to be great wore him down to the point of pure exhaustion. 

And Charles understood all of that because he understood how hard Max’s brain worked to try and fuck him up. 

That was why Charles had to take the brunt of the fall this time so that Max could get himself back together. He’d cried a couple times, breaking down that he didn’t want to end up back in therapy or on medication again, and the only way that Charles had seen a way to let that happen was by doing what Max would detest the most. 

If Max found out what Charles had done, Max would kill him. 

And Charles would gladly take it, because the more that Max was focused on that fact that Charles had saved him from the eternal pain, the better Charles could live with himself for hurting his brother beyond recognition. 

But Mick had to throw a spanner in the works, as always. 

Charles hadn’t expected it, which was his first error. 

He’d grown incredibly used to being on edge around Mick, to never put his guard down because that was what Mick would use to abuse him. The second Charles was in a position where Mick could take advantage, he would. The few times Charles had broken down, that he’d begged or he’d screamed, Mick had loved it. And Charles had hated it. Because he’d let Mick win. 

And Charles tried so incredibly hard to not let the other boy win. 

“Where the fuck was you yesterday, baby boy?” Mick hissed, grabbing Charles’ hood and dragging him into the toilets as he walked the baronial corridors after dropping Max at his first period class. 

The force of the hood being pulled cut into Charles’ throat and he squeaked painfully at his breath being cut off, before doubling over and coughing harshly to the point that Charles was convinced he was going to see a lung come up. 

“Ill.”

“That’s funny because I saw you coming into school, and I saw you leave. So, tell me the truth before I break your little face.”

“Busy,” Charles coughed. He didn’t want to tell Mick anyway, but there was no way he’d be able to get more than one word out right now anyway. His lungs were fighting to get air back into them and Mick was wrapping the hood in his fist tighter with every passing second that Charles disobeyed him. 

“Stop lying to me, where the fuck did you go? Go somewhere with your precious Daddy by any chance? The one person that deals with your whore behaviour and can understand it. That’s the real reason he never gave you back, isn’t it? Can’t be angry your son is a whore when you’re the person he learnt it from.”

“What are you on about?” Charles coughed, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Little Charlie is a whore just like his fucking Daddy, isn’t he?”

“I’m not a whore.” Charles said, his teeth clenched in anger, “And stop calling my Dad a whore.”

“But that’s all he is. A dirty disgusting little whore that ruins people’s lives so that he can get fucked by more than just his shitty husband. First, he makes your Dad bend over backwards for him and then when he gets bored, why not ruin someone else’s life too?”

“What is your problem? You’re talking in riddles like I should know why you’re a fucking abusive bastard.”

“You ruined my parent’s marriage.”

“Me?” Charles admonished, “I’ve met your Dad once.”

“Yeah, and my Dad fucking loves you and Max. He’d do anything for you. You ruined it.” Mick said, finally letting go of Charles’ hood. Charles coughed harshly as his lungs dragged as much oxygen in as they could. 

But the moment didn’t last long when Mick wrapped his hands around Charles’ throat, pushing him into the wall. Charles’ head smacked against the wall. The pain was nothing compared to the pain of Mick’s hands slowly killing him. 

Charles had seen Mick look terrifying, and he’d definitely likened him to a feral animal once. 

Any comparison that Charles had made in the past was resolutely wrong. 

This, this was a feral animal. Mick was actually going to kill him. 

Sky blue eyes were now storming over and his breath was heavy to the point that Charles thought there was an actual lion in front of him about to rip him to pieces. 

“Your slut of a Dad ruined my family. Your Dad bends over and says ‘please do everything I ask’ and people do.”

“My Dad didn’t do shit,” Charles tried to say, tried to furiously rip Mick’s fingers from his throat but it was like they’d been surgically attached, strategically moving ever so slightly to keep cutting off different aspects of Charles’ breathing. 

“Explain to me why else my Dad would make us move from our home, where everything was fine, and we were happy, all because your precious Daddy got him a job here again.”

“Maybe because he knew he was raising a psychopath,” Charles croaked, “My Dad didn’t do shit.”

“Your Dad ruined it!” 

“He didn’t sleep with your Dad!” Charles shouted, finally pulling his throat free slightly, “My Dad loves my Isä, he wouldn’t give that up for the shit that comes with you.”

“Then explain why they’re always leaving work late together,” Mick spat, “It’s because your Dad is whore who can’t keep his legs shut. Do you two compare notes? Is it a competition of ‘let’s see how many lives we can ruin’?”

“He doesn’t fuck your Dad! He has fucking standards,” Charles spat back, instantly regretting it when Mick’s fist connected with his stomach and he quickly doubled over. 

Any air that he’d managed to suck in was instantly gone and Charles was at a loss for life. He was fighting a battle in which not even the darkness could save him. Mick had emerged from the fiery pits of hell to come after Charles, all because of some sick fake ideas he had, and the darkness couldn’t fight hell. It couldn’t find a way to fight something that had no origin. 

Mick was fixated on this idea that it had all been Sebastian’s fault, but it hadn’t. Charles knew that. It wasn’t just that he thought his Dad was a good enough person to not cheat on his Isä, he knew that regardless. It was that his Dad wasn’t stupid enough to get involved with someone that had once been his teacher. A teacher that had been the one to mark Sebastian’s work and give him the top grade in his class. 

Sebastian was a lawyer. He was smart for a reason. He knew that if he dated someone that had once been his principal lecturer, even now, questions would be asked. And his reputation as one of the best lawyers for International Law that Europe had ever seen would come under fire faster than anything. 

“My Dad doesn’t sleep with Michael,” Charles repeated as he struggled to catch his breath. 

“Sebastian ruined everything because he wanted a cheap fuck, and all that it got him was a son who’s a fucking freak and another one that’s a whore. Valtteri was fucking safe from his influence, that’s the only smart decision your Dad ever made was them have Valtteri be Kimi’s son.” 

“How do you know about that?” Charles questioned. No one knew about the fact that Valtteri wasn’t adopted but the twins were. It wasn’t a secret, per se, it just wasn’t spoken about. 

Yet Mick knew.

“Guess your Dad likes to talk about his kids when he’s been fucked,” Mick shrugged.

“My Dad isn’t a whore, he’s not like your Dad,” Charles said, “Spread whatever you want about me, I’ve spread my legs faster than you could ever start a rumour about my shit. But don’t you dare lie about my Dad.”

“He ruined my life.”

“Get over it, you fucking idiot. He doesn’t owe you shit.”

“He made my Dad take this job.”

“Doesn’t mean he slept with him.” Charles gritted his teeth as Mick pulled at his hair. 

“Like father like son,” Mick scoffed, “You’re all just fucking liars.”

“I don’t lie,” Charles said. 

And he was telling the truth. Sometimes he alluded the truth and he skirted around what was actually happening, but he never lied. When he said he was fine, it was because he was. When he said there was nothing going on, it was because he could handle things. When he said that his Dad wasn’t a slut, it was because he knew it to be the truth. 

“He’s got every judge and hotshot in his fucking pocket and they’ll all do whatever precious little Sebastian Vettel wants. How are you going to feel when he stops you getting into university, hm? You’re already the fucked up one, how’s that going to feel when it’s your Dad that is the one to finally confirm you’re too fucking stupid to do anything?”

“You’re a couple months late,” Charles smirked, “He’s already stopped me.”

For a moment, Charles knew he’d caught Mick off guard, that he hadn’t been expecting Charles to say that. But if Mick had really been listening at the Gala just before Christmas, he’d have heard Sebastian say that they didn’t think Charles would go to university because he wasn’t academic. Mick had no idea Charles was going to a fashion college instead. 

Charles was fighting back, and he was losing massively, but he wasn’t on the ropes anymore. He was clawing something back and he was going to take a swing. He might miss, he might not. But he had to try. Mick couldn’t win. And Sebastian had always taught him to keep fighting until you were physically incapable anymore. 

“Did you not know? Daddy already knows I’m too dumb to do that, he won’t let me go already,” Charles jeered, “You’re too late, Micky. Maybe it’s you that’s the dumb one then? You always wanted to be a lawyer, didn’t you?”

Mick blinked like he couldn’t believe what Charles was saying. 

“Yeah, guess it isn’t just my Dad that likes to talk about his disappointments after getting fucked,” Charles shrugged, “Your sister is thick as shit and when everyone finds out that special little Mick can’t even fight the school slut without losing, who’s going to want that on their alumni list? At least when I go somewhere, I leave with knowing one special little thing...”

Charles leant in as close as he dared, his entire body was screaming at him to move away, that having Mick’s hands anywhere close to him was going to be petrifying, but he was finally fighting hard and he couldn’t back down now, 

“I gave whoever I needed to the best blowjob of their life, and your Dad seemed to really appreciate his one too.”

Charles said he didn’t lie, and normally that was true. But that one, that was a lie. He barely even recalled what Michael looked like, but he’d gotten under Mick’s skin and that’s all he cared about. 

“You little whore.”

Mick was quick to knee Charles in the gut, and when he fell forward, upper-cut him to the point that Charles was seeing stars and his teeth were depositing themselves in his brain. The fight escalated quickly, and Charles wasn’t really able to defend himself more than wrap an arm around his head and the other around his torso and hope that whatever else Mick did wouldn’t do anything more than bruise him. 

But then it stopped. 

And Charles could hear the sound of someone’s fist connecting repeatedly with skin and there were gentle hands helping him up. 

“Charles, come on mate, you’re okay, just sit up for me,” a voice filtered through and Charles could barely see through his left eye, blood pouring from his split eyebrow and his body aching beyond redemption. 

“Dan?” He whimpered, reaching out for his brother’s boyfriend before he could collapse. 

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay, mate, just take it slow, you’re okay, I’ve got you, don’t worry,” Daniel soothed, dragging Charles up so that he could stand properly, “Take some deep breaths, Charles, just in and out, that’s it, you’re okay, I’ve got you.”

Charles rested his head against Daniel’s shoulder, letting him take the brunt of his weight for a moment whilst he recollected himself. He could still hear grunts and fists flying, and a cry that sounded like it had come from Mick. 

Charles scrubbed his eyes and looked up, and finally the figure entangled with Mick and battering the shit out of him made sense. 

“Max!” He screamed, pushing himself clumsily away from Daniel and grabbing his brother around the waist. “Get off him, shit, Max get away!”

Mick was on the floor by this point, staring up murderously at the Räikkönen-Vettel Twins. 

“This isn’t over.” He said, spitting to the side. The carpet was dark in the school, but Charles knew what blood against charcoal grey looked like, and that was precisely what Mick had just created. 

His brother had done that.

His precious, well-behaved big brother. 

He’d protected Charles. 

And Charles knew that what Max had done was the most horrific thing in the world. Their parents were going to kill Charles for letting Max do that.

So Charles did the only thing he knew how to do. 

He ran. 

Max had just ruined every single prospect he had. There was no way he wouldn’t get suspended for this. There was no way that when Kings found out they’d accept him. There was no way that Max wasn’t going to end up back in therapy. There was no way that Max was going to be allowed to be a developmental children’s psychologist when he’d exploded like he had. 

Charles had fought so hard to protect Max in order for him to get the best prospects he could, and Max had destroyed all Charles’ hard work in a matter of seconds and some quick moving punches. 

“Charles!” He could hear Max shouting after him as he ran, every voice in his head screaming at him to keep going, to run until he couldn’t anymore and then he’d finally be in a place where he could keep Max safe because it wasn’t Charles’ idiotic brain that had ruined things. 

If he’d have let Max take the beatings, Daniel would’ve known straight away. Their Dads would’ve known straight away. Valtteri would’ve murdered Mick within seconds. Charles would’ve helped dig the grave to dispose of his body. 

But no, Charles had to try and save him and, in the process, ruined everything. 

His feet smacked against the stairs as he sprinted down from floor 1 to the ground floor, running through the science corridor and through the tech corridor. He passed Amy’s room at some point, the class he should be in next, or maybe even now, Charles had no idea what time it was. She hadn’t had time, however, to look up before Charles had scarpered. 

He was now at an impasse in that he couldn’t go backwards because then he’d be going back down the corridor and Max would quickly appear. If he went forwards into the cafeteria, he’d have no way of getting back out. He could go left, which would take him to the front courtyard or back up to floor 1 depending on whether he took the stairs or went out the doors. The other option was to go right and go into the toilets, but Max would be able to box him in if he did that and Charles would never be free. 

The decision was made. 

Left it was.

Only he never got there. 

Charles didn’t have chance to brace himself before Max was tackling him to the ground.

Charles had never been a rugby player. He was too small. The only person that had ever done this to him was Max and all his experience paid off as Max made sure he turned to take the brunt of the weight, falling so that Charles fell onto him rather than the solid floor. Max was broader than Charles, still not enough to play rugby (not that Max would, he didn’t do contact sports... or any sports for that matter), but he was at least muscular enough that falling onto the floor wouldn’t make it feel like his bones were shattering beneath him.

But the weight of falling to the floor combined with the weight of Charles smacking like a dead-weight against him was enough to wind them both. 

“What the fuck was that?!” They screamed in unison, Max looking at Charles with shock and Charles at Max with indignation. 

“I had it under control!” Charles shouted, pushing himself off Max and rolling so that he could stand back up. 

Max was quick to follow him up, trying to grab Charles before he either stormed off or started kicking off. He had no idea what Charles would do, and Charles didn’t know what he’d do either. He felt explosive, and he really wanted to kill Max right now.

“He was battering you, Charles! You didn’t have it under control!”

“And he wasn’t hurting you! Was he?! So, I guess I did, didn’t I, you dumbfuck!” Charles screamed back. 

“You can’t keep using yourself like this!”

“Stop telling me what to do! Everyone needs to stop trying to tell me how to live my life!”

“You’re hurting yourself, Charles, this isn’t right.”

“And I’m protecting Mr Golden Boy, so I guess it’s fine, isn’t it? Because that’s all Dad cares about. Fuck whatever happens to Charles, he’s the little disappointment, he’s the slut, he’s the one that will never amount to shit. Not you. You’re the fucking golden boy. Let’s brag about everything you can do. And you can only do that because I saved your fucking life!”

“Stop being a dickhead and just talk to me, for once, in your stupid existence, stop being a dickhead.” Max spat. 

“I don’t want to!” Charles shouted, pushing Max slightly. “I’m not bowing down to you and letting you do whatever you want, that’s not fucking normal. You’re a control freak, you’re just like Dad. That’s why they love you. Because you’re a carbon copy of him. And when Mick blamed Dad, he blamed you. That’s why I had to save you! Because you can’t do shit, Max!”

“Stop trying to make me hate you!” Max shouted, “Stop saying this shit, Charles, it’s not cute.”

“Cuter than having you getting covered in bruises, though, isn’t it? Can’t have the golden boy sad.”

“You’re being a dickhead.”

“I wish Dad had never adopted me.” Charles said, “Then everything would be fucking fine.”

Max took a step back and his entire expression dropped.

“You don’t mean that…”

“Or maybe they should’ve left you behind? Maybe that would’ve made things better.”

“Stop it,” Max whispered. “Stop hurting yourself. You’re just saying this because you’re angry.”

“I’m not angry, Maxy,” Charles shook his head, “I’m fucking pissed.”

Charles wasn’t lying about that bit at least. Just the rest of it. He didn’t regret their dads adopting him and he’d never wish that they hadn’t adopted Max too, they were two halves of a whole, but he knew how to hurt Max and Charles needed to hurt Max because he was hurting badly. 

“Charles,” Max whispered, reaching out and placing his hand against Charles’ ribs to try and drag him in, most likely to a hug. 

If Charles had told people what had happened, what he did next would be completely justified.

They’d have understood that his brain fogged over and he was back in the Gala bathroom, back with Mick pinning him to the sink and running his dirty hands across Charles’ skin. 

They’d have known how when Charles was on edge, someone touching him sent him right back there and all he could feel was the pure terror of being suffocated under Mick. Mick’s arm was back around his throat, slowly cutting off his breathing, and yet it was nothing compared to the feeling of Mick’s hands on his skin, touching him where Charles didn’t want or need it. 

He should’ve talked to someone so they understood that when Charles did what he had, it wasn’t because it was Max he wanted to hurt, it was Mick. It was Mick’s face in front of him and he wanted to punch that smug fucking grin off of him because Charles was tired and scared and he didn’t want Mick to take him again. 

But it wasn’t Mick in front of him. 

Charles pulled his hand back abruptly when he realised what he’d done. 

“Max..” he whimpered, reaching out for his brother, who was now knocked to the floor at Charles’ feet.

Max screamed, pushing himself away from Charles and scrambling backwards. 

“Max please I’m sorry.” Charles begged. 

No no no it wasn’t meant to go like this

Max wasn’t meant to get caught in the crossfire and he wasn’t meant to get mistaken for Mick in his brain. 

They just had similar features and Charles had been scared and suddenly he wasn’t looking at the sky blue of Mick’s eyes anymore and it was ice cold blue terror.

“WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO?” 

Charles ignore the voice. He couldn’t take his eyes off Max, couldn’t stop watching the way that the blood dripped from his brother’s nose and spotted onto his white shirt. 

“Max, I’m sorry,” Charles whispered, trying to reach out for Max again. 

Max scrambled back even further, pushing himself into the wall and looking up at Charles with fearful eyes. 

Fear.

He was scared of Charles.

They’d fought in the past, punched each other many times, but never, _never_ , had Charles punched him in anger. He’d never punched Max hard enough that it had caused him to bleed. He’d never made Max scared of him. 

Arms came to wrap around Charles’ waist to pull him away and Charles couldn’t even fight him. He knew it was Valtteri, could feel the anger radiate off him, but it was nothing. 

Charles felt nothing. 

He’d hurt the one person he’d swore that he never would again. 

Daniel came to a running stop, appearing from somewhere down the corridor and dropping to his knees in front of Max, hiding him from Charles’ view. Charles wanted to scream, tell him to get away from his brother, to tell him that Charles had to be the one to comfort him and wipe the tears and the blood away. But he couldn’t. Because it wasn’t Charles that Max trusted anymore. He’d destroyed that trust. 

Valtteri dragged Charles away, pushing him out of the corridor and onto the front courtyard. There was no one about. Everyone was in lessons or in the library, revising for the mock exams next week. 

That’s where Max should’ve been. 

In the library, crying and worrying over his exams. 

Not knocked to the floor in the corridor, crying and worrying over being battered by Charles. 

“What the hell did you do to him?” Valtteri demanded the second he shoved Charles into the wall, a tight grip on his arms over where the bruises already lay. 

“It’s always him!” Charles screamed, “It’s always about precious fucking Max! Ooh let’s protect him because he’s a fucking baby. Why won’t anyone protect me?!”

Charles screamed from the pits of the darkness in Valtteri’s arms, falling forward onto his knees and pulling at his hair. 

Everything just _hurt_.

He couldn’t do it anymore. 

His hands hurt. His heart hurt. His head hurt. 

Everything hurt. 

And he couldn’t take it anymore. 

“Why can’t it just be about me for once?!” Charles sobbed. “Why can’t you just ask me what’s wrong for once in this stupid fucking pointless worthless existence?!”

Charles curled himself into a ball. He didn’t even care if people were looking out the windows at him. There was nothing left of him. 

Valtteri scooped Charles up and tried to hold him, but Charles was quick to push him away, dragging himself away so quickly his palms bust open and his jeans ripped at his knee on the hard asphalt. He couldn’t have someone touch him, couldn’t have Valtteri try and hug him when all Charles could feel was the regret of the last person to try and comfort him be Max and it ended with Charles getting the person he loved the most confused for the person he hated the most. 

“Charles, what the hell happened to you?”

Charles couldn’t tell him. He couldn’t look at his big brother and tell him. Charles was meant to be the strong one. He was the one that their dads never worried about. He wasn’t smart or special in any way. He was just plain old normal Charles. The dramatic one. The one that never did anything but fuck around and be an idiot, wind his brothers up and try to steal their fucking boyfriends apparently.

And he hated it.

Charles was tired of everything. Everyone and everything. The darkness was shouting for him, and Charles closed his eyes. 

The darkness was going to take care of him. It had to. 

No one else was going to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :/
> 
> so I guess the next chapter will be ~interesting~ to say the least
> 
> Kudos, comments and feedback always appreciated❤️
> 
> Tumblr is at 3303andmore if you want to shout at me for continuously making these boys have an inability to just fkin talk


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **CONTENT WARNINGS: Charles starts talking (discussion of recent events)**
> 
> :)

When Charles woke up, it was because it felt like he couldn’t breathe.

His chest was weighed down and it was like whatever was there was crushing his soul.

But then he opened his eyes. 

And it was the other half of his soul reflected up at him.

Max was fast asleep, curled under Charles’ arm, his head resting just below all the bruising on his shoulder. Max had his arms curled around his own waist for a change. Normally he would wrap an arm around Charles and hold him, but when a cold breeze hit him and Charles shivered involuntarily, he realised why his brother wasn’t hugging him. 

Every bruise, every cut, every scar was all on show. The mottled skin creating the darkest dance across porcelain. It was hitting and contrasting and fighting each other, all vying to be the bruise on top that caused the most pain. 

Charles brought his fingers down and pressed into the spot just above his hip.

“Shit,” he hissed. The pain was euphoric. It was a relief. 

“What happened?” A drawling voice hit and Charles could’ve slapped himself. How had he forgotten Max was literally sleeping on him?

But he knew how he forgot. 

The bruises always distracted him.

“Charles what happened?”

“Normally that’s me asking you what’s up.”

“Normally you’re not covered in bruises,” Max replied. He pushed himself up and rubbed at his eyes, but then he was awake. His full attention was on Charles and he couldn’t escape the care and the compassion and the pure worry in Max’s eyes.

“Max please.”

“You passed out,” Max interrupted, frowning hard and Charles wanted nothing more than to reach out and rub the frown away like he used to as a little boy. 

He always remembered his Dad saying that Max was too serious, that if he didn’t stop frowning he wouldn’t know how to smile anymore. And Charles was horrified. He loved Max’s smile. Max didn’t just smile with his mouth, he smiled with his whole face, his eyes would light up and his cheeks would become chipmunk-like. And Charles adored it. Max’s smile could solve anything. 

“I don’t remember that.”

“Do you remember anything from earlier?”

“I remember Mick, and you fighting him. And then I remember arguing with you but I don’t remember what we said,” Charles said slowly. 

“You said you wished Dad had never adopted you, that you thought it would’ve been better if they’d left me behind.”

“I don’t remember...” Charles frowned, “Did I really say that?”

“Right before you punched me,” Max nodded. 

Charles frantically pushed himself up, and it was only now that he realised Max’s face was bruised. 

“I did what?!” He questioned, “I punched you?”

“Decked me,” Max confirmed, “But it wasn’t you, it was like this other being, this mist had covered you and you were, I guess you were lost? I don’t know how to describe but the look in your eyes, it wasn’t you I was looking at. And I was terrified.”

“I don’t remember any of that, like I remember you running after me, and I remember arguing with you, but I don’t remember a single thing that I said or punching you or anything.”

“Deflection,” Max sadly murmured, “I tried to tell you something’s wrong, and you wouldn’t listen to me. The reason why you don’t remember probably has to do with your brain trying to keep you safe by removing the thing that’s causing you pain. Your brain wants you to be safe, and so the only way your brain could keep you safe, because you were freaking out, was by pushing that anger and pain and worry onto me. It’s normal, but it’s not good.”

“Are you psychoanalysing me, Maxy?” Charles joked, but the humour fell flat when Max continued to stare at him. 

“I’m trying to make you understand that what you’re doing is killing you. And if you’re not careful, you’re going to do something that ends really badly. And I don’t want that. I want you to be safe, and I’m scared that I can’t trust you to stay safe.”

“I’m okay, I just had a moment of lapsed judgment.”

“You’ve had months of lapsed judgment by the looks of it, Charles. Stop pretending you haven’t. You’ve been going down this spiral for a really long time.”

Charles lifted his hand and ran his fingers tentatively over Max’s face, brushing away a tear that fell and gently trying to wipe the bruise away. If that bruise went away, this was nothing more than a stupid dream, something that his brain had convinced him had happened but never had. 

Charles wanted to be that naïve. 

The blackening bruise across Max’s nose and cheekbone screamed that he couldn’t. 

“I didn’t mean for you to get hurt.”

“So you let yourself get hurt instead?” Max questioned. 

Charles nodded slowly. 

“I needed to keep you safe.”

“Charles, look at your body, and tell me that what happened is okay. Because it isn’t. I don’t even recognise your skin, Charles. You’re purple and green and you shouldn’t be. You shouldn’t have these marks all over you, it’s not right.”

“I kept you safe,” he whimpered, “That’s what I had to do.”

“I don’t want you to keep me safe if this is what the price is,” Max said, pushing himself away from Charles. “I’m sorry that I let you do this, I am, I don’t why you thought you had to do this.”

“Because I need you to be safe! I needed you to not get hurt! I fucked up enough times, I couldn’t fuck this up again!” Charles shouted, getting increasingly worried with the deepening frown on Max’s face. 

“You need to sleep, I’m sure Dad is going to want to talk to you tonight, and you’re going to exhausted. Get some sleep, figure out how to stop lying to everyone, and I’ll come back for you later, okay? I need to phone Daniel.”

“I’m sorry I got you both involved in this, I didn’t mean to.”

“Charles seriously, I love you with my entire heart even though you’re a fucking idiot. But if you say that you didn’t mean to get me involved one more time, I am going to bury you six feet under and I will have no regrets. You’re my brother but you’re an idiot.” Max said, “I’ll always get involved because that’s what we do. We protect each other. From other people and from ourselves.”

“I’m sorry, Max.” Charles admitted, “I really am.”

“I’m sorry too, Charles. Sleep now, you need it. I’ll talk to you later.” Max promised, sitting down on the edge of Charles’ bed and wrapping the quilt and blanket around him, “I’ll stay here until you fall asleep.”

Charles shimmied his hand out so he could hold onto Max’s, curling onto his side and looking at Max. Max shakily ran his hand through Charles’ hair, humming the tune to some random song as Charles closed his eyes.

“I love you Max.”

“Love you more, Charles,” Max whispered back. 

Charles fell asleep with a soft smile on his face. Everything hurt, however Charles questioned whether it was his body finally releasing everything and accepting that his battle was over. Max had seen the bruises, he’d heard the arguments, he’d been the recipient of Charles’ fist and Charles had passed out at school. There was no way that he could get away with his parents not wanting to know everything that had happened. 

He didn’t remember passing out, and he didn’t remember coming home. He didn’t remember if it was his Dads or his brothers that had carried him back, and he didn’t know who it was that had pulled his shirt off and saw the mottling on his skin. 

But it was over now. 

And Charles’ body resigned itself to the fact that there was nothing more it could do. It had fought its battle and finally it was over. 

His mind, however, was the one gearing up for the next big fight. 

Charles wondered if his Dads would want him to go to therapy for this. He didn’t know how he felt about that, but it definitely felt like something conscious Charles should deal with. Right now, he wanted to get lost in the fields of his sanctity. 

The only thing Charles dreamed about was the day his Dads told him and Max they were coming home with them soon. Charles had jumped into Sebastian’s arms and screamed in excitement as his new Daddy spun him around. Max had smiled as he cuddled himself into Kimi’s arms. 

Charles had been happy in his Dad’s arms then. It was time that he allowed himself to be happy in his Dad’s arms again. 

————

Charles woke up again to the sound of Max’s voice shouting through the house.

“I’m gonna take Percy out for a walk!” 

Percy was their next-door neighbour’s dog, someone that Max hung out with when he needed to go and clear his mind. He’d always go somewhere quiet where he could let Percy off the lead and he’d be able to think about anything and everything. And before Charles could think about it, he grabbed a t-shirt, pulling it over his head and left his bedroom. Hanging over the bannister, he could see Max still in the foyer. 

Max was just pulling his coat on as Charles reached the middle of the stairs.

“Hey, Max?” He called out tentatively. 

Max looked up at him.

“Yeah?”

“Do you mind if I come with you?” 

“Are you sure you’re okay to go out?”

Charles breathed shakily. He felt groggy and nervous about going outside but he nodded anyway. 

Max smiled encouragingly and nodded back.

“If you’re sure, I’d love the company. Here, wear my spare pair of wellingtons, you don’t want to be going out in your trainers, it’s really muddy on the field.”

Charles walked down the last few stairs and sat on the bottom step. He saw his Dads looking at them both worriedly, but neither said anything. Clearly, they could tell that there was something that they knew the twins needed to sort out between themselves before they were able to get through to Charles. Max was Charles’ safety net and if Charles wanted to go out with Max, there was probably something he needed to work out with his brother before he could talk it out with his parents. 

Charles pulled the wellies on and shrugged into his coat. The twins had matching Barbour jackets, and with those, their wellies and the flat cap that Max fought onto Charles’ head, they looked like twins for the first time in a really long time. 

If you ignored Charles’ blossoming black eye, the split above his eyebrow, and the bust lip that he was rocking. Max’s bruising was present on his face too, but nothing as severe as Charles’. That was the only good thing to come out of this. No matter what, Charles had stopped Max from getting hurt. 

Charles never thought about the emotional ramifications of it all. Never once thought that no matter how many times he stopped the physical hurt, he’d never be able to take away the emotional pain that Max would feel. The guilt would slowly eat them both alive and they’d be back to the suffering, eternally doomed to do nothing more than feel guilt for the other’s actions. 

They walked in silence next door to collect the dog and Max exchanged small talk with their neighbours as he put the Percy the Dog on his lead, Charles waiting awkwardly at the end of the driveway for him. The Twins remained quiet until they reached the field not far from their house and let Percy off his lead. 

“I think we need to talk about what actually happened, don’t we?” Max said as he threw a tennis ball for the dog to chase after. 

“Yeah, I think we do,” Charles responded.

The brothers dropped down to sit on a bench, pressing as close to one another as they could. Charles rest his head against Max’s shoulders and let out a hiccupped breath as his emotions threatened to tip him over the edge of no return. 

Max didn’t say anything; which Charles was grateful for as he let himself cry properly without holding back or trying to hide his tears in his arms or a pillow. Instead, Max lightly took Charles’ hand in his and ran his thumb comfortingly across his knuckles. Charles sobbed his heart out as everything caught up with him and he couldn’t see anything through the pain. He felt Max move slightly a couple times as he threw the ball for Percy who kept happily barking. The only other noise was Charles’ head screaming at him and his heartbeat echoing dangerously in his ears. 

“I’m sorry,” Charles sobbed, burying his face in Max’s neck for a moment. 

“I’m sorry too, I should’ve said something before now.”

“Why didn’t you?” Charles asked, looking up at his brother with tears streaming down his cheeks. 

“I don’t know,” Max honestly admitted, “I think I convinced myself that you would’ve told us if something was wrong, or you would’ve made a big deal out of it. That’s what I always expect from you because it’s what you do. You’re dramatic and you’re a fucking pain in the arse for that. So, when you started being a bit different, I think I got selfish and thought you were doing it because you was upset I’m dating Daniel. And I love Dan, and I didn’t want us to end up having another fight because of it. Christmas destroyed me, Charles, I didn’t want you to vanish on me again if we had another fight.”

“You told Daniel you hate me,” Charles whispered, “Because I was ‘drunk’.”

“When was that?” Max frowned. 

“The Friday after the Gala, after we had that fight at school, when you and Daniel went to bed,” Charles said, screwing up his face as he tried to block the rest of the Gala from his mind even as the images flashed dangerously before his eyes. He had to keep breathing, keep holding onto Max because then he knew he wouldn’t get lost there again. 

“No, I didn’t? I never told Daniel I hate you. Even when I’ve been upset or angry with you, I’ve only ever said that I hate you in the sense that I was frustrated with you, I don’t actually hate you.” 

“I heard you Max, stop lying.”

“I really don’t think I’m lying,” Max shook his head, before a realisation seemed dawned on him, “Was it when we watched that movie? And me and Dan went up to bed, and I said something about someone being selfish or something? Like ‘I can’t believe he did this’ or something?”

Charles nodded. He couldn’t remember what it was Max had actually said, but he knew it was something along those lines. All that he could remember was the crispness of Max’s voice saying ‘I hate him’.

“Charles, I promise you, I wasn’t talking about you. I was talking about a character in the book I was reading, he was this absolute narcissistic prick and he was winding the shit out of me, I wasn’t talking about you. I was really angry at you for what had happened at school, but I didn’t hate you for it. I think I knew something was wrong but I was ignoring it because you can be a right dick sometimes and the things that you said hurt me, so I kinda wanted to just pretend you didn’t exist that night.”

“You pretended I didn’t exist for nearly four weeks, Max, I needed you and you weren’t there.”

“What happened? Why did you need me?”

“Mick put his hands on me,” Charles said, his voice shaking. 

Oh fuck was he actually going to admit this?

“I know he did, I’ve seen the bruises,” Max replied.

“No, Max, I mean _he put his hands on me_.”

Oh fuck turns out he was…

“As in, as in he _touched_ you?” Max stuttered, “Charles what did he do?”

“I can’t say it,” Charles broke down, folding himself into Max and his arms coming up to wrap around Percy who jumped up onto his lap, licking away the tears as Charles shakily sobbed. 

“Tell me what he did, Charles,” Max said again, his own voice shaking and thick with emotion.

“He put his hand down my trousers,” Charles sobbed, he wasn’t meant to start here, wasn’t meant to start at the bit that hurt him most but it was all he could think about, it was all his brain wanted to talk about, to finally admit it and have someone know the thing that haunted him the most. 

“I said no, Max, I really did, and I tried to fight but he got really angry at me and I wanted him to stop but he wouldn’t. I really tried, Max, you have to believe, I didn’t want him to do it. I know I sleep around but I didn’t want him, I’ve never wanted him.”

“Oh my god, Charles,” Max breathed out, “I am so sorry I didn’t know.”

“He wanted to kill me,” Charles cried, “Because Lewis found out and Lewis punched him. I don’t know what else happened, but I wasn’t drunk that night. I just didn’t want you to shout at me for being an idiot and getting in that situation.”

“I would never shout at you,” Max promised, “Not for that. Never for that. Holy shit, Charles, you’re not an idiot, he took advantage of you and stopped you from having control over your own body. You can sleep with the entire fucking world and as long as you said yes, and they did obviously, but if you want to do that, do it. But this isn’t that, Charles. It’s got nothing to do with your reputation. You have to tell Dad. Dad has to know, he can fix this, Charles.”

“I can’t stop feeling his hands on me,” Charles sobbed harder, “It’s like every bruise means nothing because all I can feel is him touching me and trying to take me and I hated it so much.”

“It’s okay, Charles, you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. It’s okay, I’ll keep you safe.”

“I had one glass of whiskey, the one you saw me get, and a shot just before we met Michael. I didn’t have anything else, Max. I just had to be drunk because it was the only way you would take care of me,” Charles sobbed into Percy’s fur. 

“I’ll always take care of you, you idiot, no matter if you’re drunk or sober. But you don’t need to be drunk for that, if you need me you need me,” Max said, take the hat off Charles’ head running his hand over Charles’ hair and pushing it off his forehead, “I’m so sorry I pushed you away and I put you in a position that you couldn’t come to me when you needed me. I’m so sorry, that’s my fault.”

“I was being a dick.”

“You weren’t, Charlie, you never were. You were terrified. And it’s my fault, I should’ve done more. Because, yeah, you are a pain and you drive me up the wall, but you’re the other half of me. I need you, Charles, and you need me, that’s how we work. I’m never going to take that from you. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you when you needed me.”

Charles continued to sob harshly, letting everything go as his body finally liberated itself of the feeling of living with what Mick had done to him. 

The cold dew was starting to settle over them as Charles shivered, exhaustion mixing with the cold and he wanted nothing more than to go home to the warmth of the house and his family. But staying here, wrapped up in Max’s arms and finally feeling safe made him feel better. And if Charles went home, he’d have to deal with his Dads questioning him on what had happened and Charles wasn’t ready for that. He’d barely even scratched the surface with Max, and he already felt exhausted. 

“How long has Mick been hurting you?” Max quietly asked after a while of silence once Charles had managed to calm down.

“Since the start of November, I think? I think you’d been with Daniel a few weeks, and it was just after he had you pinned against the wall, I think that was end of October maybe. I don’t really know. It’s all a bit blurry at this point.”

“Is this why you stopped going out? To parties and stuff, not hanging out with clowns.”

“I didn’t want anyone to see the bruises,” Charles nodded, “I didn’t want you to find out ‘cause I didn’t want Dad to know. I’m terrified that when Dad sees them he’s just going to say I got them because someone was a bit rough with me in bed, but-”

“He knows the difference between a bruise that comes up because of kinks, and bruises that come up because someone physically wants to cause you pain. Dad wouldn’t ever accuse you of making this up, he knows you, Charles. You’re dramatic but you don’t lie. We all know that. You wouldn’t lie to us, not about this.”

“I didn’t want Dad to be angry if Mick said it all happened consensually and I said it didn’t. I’m scared he’s not going to believe me, Max, and if he doesn’t believe me, I’m finished. I won’t be able to stay at home knowing that my own Dad doesn’t believe me. I’m not lying about this, about any of it. I wouldn’t lie about getting the shit kicked out of me all the time.”

“You wouldn’t lie about three months of torture, Charles. The bruises, the attitude change, everything really, none of it is something you would lie about. Dad will believe you, I promise.”

“Don’t make a promise you can’t keep, Max.”

“I’m not,” Max said resolutely, “Dad will believe you. He’s already worried about you. We all are. You need to talk to someone.”

“A therapist?”

“Maybe, might be something that works for you. But you also need to talk to Dad or Isä, and tell them what’s going on, in your head and in your heart. I want to help you, Charles, but you need to get them to help you too.”

“Can you be there? When I talk to Dad and Isä? Because if Dad doesn’t believe me or if he says something mean, I need you there because you believe me, and I just need someone to believe me for once. I’m tired of being alone, Max.”

“You’re not alone anymore, Charles, I promise. I’ll be there for whatever you need.”

“I just need someone to believe in me for a change,” He whispered. 

“We’re all going to believe you. Dad’s worried about you, Isä is worried, me and Val, we just want you to be happy and I’m really pissed that I was stupid enough to not trust Dan when he said something was wrong. And, I know me saying sorry isn’t enough, and I feel really fucking guilty for that, but I really am sorry. I didn’t realise how bad things got, especially lately, for you.”

“It’s been bad for a while,” Charles whispered.

“Yeah I’m noticing that. I’m sorry that it’s essentially been me being an idiot that led this to happen. And also, I know it’s not the same because it’s not Dad saying it, but I didn’t realise how much you being compared to me is affecting you.”

“It’s not that I’m upset that I get compared to you, it’s that people can’t see me because they expect me to be you.”

“We’ll talk to Dad, make him realise that him comparing us isn’t good. I know he doesn’t always mean it in a malicious way but-”

“Max I have no idea what malicious means.”

“Cruel, just like, he doesn’t mean to upset you or be mean, it’s just because we’re twins, it’s so easy to expect us to have a similar mannerisms and behaviours. But we’re completely different people and it’s about time that people start to understand that I guess.”

“I don’t want people to think I don’t want to be your brother or anything, or that I’m only doing this because you’re smarter than me. I think it’s more that I’m scared that by people expecting me to be you, it’s stopping me from having chance to grow properly and it’s stopping me from being my own person.”

“What’s it like at school?” Max asked instead.

“Fine I guess.” Charles told him, “You can’t draw for shit so I guess that’s fine, and you don’t speak a word of French so Carole would never think to compare us. English is ju-”

“Dan speaks French,” Max whispered, “He speaks pretty good French, actually. And when you were ‘drunk’ Dan knew precisely what you said.”

Charles’ heart stopped and he dropped his head.

“Did he tell you?”

“When we got to bed, yeah he did. It’s why I was worried about you the next morning. And obviously I heard you crying, Charles. And, I know you were scared and upset and all of that, and you weren’t ready to talk, so I’m not mad or blaming you or whatever because I completely get that you weren’t ready, but you just changed so quickly that I didn’t know how to talk to you when you said you’re fine and then acted like you used to. It was like whatever had been happening was gone and you were back to the Charles that I knew from before. You went into school so happy and normal, I didn’t know what to do. And I know that doesn’t excuse it or anything else that happened, but I think I wanted you to be okay so badly I took it on face-value and I didn’t ask the questions I should have. You closed yourself off so quickly that you said you want people to see you but no one knows who you are anymore because it all.”

“I lost myself along the way, somewhere around when I stopped wanting to be your brother at school,” Charles said.

Charles looked up at Max, biting his lip and wincing when he caught the split, tears spilling again.

“I don’t know who I am anymore and I’m scared I never will. I was trying to be anyone but your brother for years that I don’t know how to be me anymore.”

“You’re my twin brother, and you’re a really good person. You’ll find yourself somewhere along the way and you’re going to discover that the relationship you develop with yourself is one of the hardest to maintain because as much as you want to, you can’t walk away from that anymore. You can’t walk away from yourself because what you’ll learn is that you have to forgive the little mistakes as much as the big ones and accept that sometimes you’re flawed and you’re stupid in the things you do, but it’s those things that make up you, all the things you love and hate about yourself. And no matter how many times you have to sit there and say ‘that was something stupid I did’ you have to accept that is what makes you _you_. Even if it’s something as dumb as the way you say ‘thank you’ to the bus driver. It sounds stupid, but that’s something that makes you an individual and not just another person.” 

Max took a moment to breathe, to reconnect his mind with the words and Charles stared into the distance as he did so. Charles’ eyes froze fast on his fixation, watching the way the baron look of the trees fought against the cold. The empty look that they presented to the world but still lived on for yet another season as they fought their way back to a life that the world expected from it. Charles understood how they felt. It was like he had shed his previous life and was slowly growing back again. And in this landscape, it was a moment of solitude as Max’s brain condensed everything again and he was able to decipher what to say next. 

“And I know right now, you can’t see all that because you’re stuck in this headspace that you had to look after me and you had to sacrifice yourself for that reason. But you’re still you. And you’re amazing, no matter what, and you do dumb things sometimes, but we all do. We’re seventeen, Charles, we’re not expected to know precisely who we are or precisely what our destiny is. We might figure it out in a few weeks or maybe a few years, who knows? Life is hard and it’s scary and we’re going to do things along the way that leave us in situations that other people will be angered by and also put ourselves in situations in which we are going to question every single aspect of who we are,” Max said slowly, his voice quiet as though not to disturb the moment. 

Max gently ran his hand along Charles’ arm, keeping him calm as he spoke. 

“I don’t know what my future would ever entail, because sometimes all I can see is the darkness ahead and the fear that my brothers are going to be amazing and leave me behind, because I know that you two can do that. And I know that’s how you feel about me and Val. But we’re not leaving you behind. The three of us, me, you and Val, no matter what, that’s our trio. That’s all we need. And whilst we can be scared and worry about not knowing who we are or our futures, we’ve got each other. And I know we let you down and there’s more we should’ve and could’ve done, and believe me if I ever see Mick I will batter the absolute shit out of him again, but you’re my brother and you come first.”

Charles had never had a way with words the way his brother had, had never been able to justify and understand the differences in the world and philosophise it into words that sounded too adult for such a young individual. And Max had never been one for grand speeches and decelerations. He wasn’t like Charles. Max was succinct and thoughtful, and yet able to tell you an intricate tale normally in only a few simple words. However, when Max _spoke_ , Charles knew to listen. Slowly he took in each word and let them embed itself into his heart, knowing that he needed to carry them wisely in order to help find himself in the future. 

“What happens when we all go to uni?” Charles quietly asked, “I’m scared that we’re gonna lose each other again.”

“The chaotic trio always find a way back home,” Max smiled, which had Charles stop for a moment to consider the words and only then did he scoff and roll his eyes.

“God you’re cheesy,” Charles grinned, laughing lightly as tears slowed yet continued to drip, meandering down the paths decorating his cheeks. 

“I’m sorry I let you down, and I’m sorry I failed you. But you’re my brother and I will never stop loving you nor try to make you laugh 24/7 with cheesy ass comments.”

Charles shook his head and dropped his head back onto Max’s shoulder. Max rubbed his hand up and down Charles’ arm, gently so as not to press against the bruises. The two of them sat there for a moment longer, breathing in the crisp air before they returned to an environment in which Charles would be stifled by an inability to breath freely. Fear would overtake him when they got home and Charles wondered if he’d even be able to sit there and look at his parents at all without panicking and freaking out that they wouldn’t trust him. 

He’d never been good with praise, he was even worse with sympathy. He didn’t like when people looked at him sadly or with disappointment for whatever reason. He’d seen it enough growing up when people realised Max was a literal genius and Charles took years to learn to even read in comparison. Max was already reading whatever he wanted by the time they’d started their new school when they were seven, not contained by reading levels still, whilst Charles was still struggling along with reading the levels that you taught to the nursery age kids. 

Why had it taken nearly ten years after that for someone to finally start to notice that Charles had difficulty with words? He hadn’t had a diagnosis yet, he had to talk to his dads properly first, but his sixth-form was noticing that Charles’ reading and spelling difficulties seemed to suggest a case of dyslexia that had somehow gone unnoticed for years. And if Charles had to question why it had, he’d bet anything it had to do with Max. Max was able to do everything incredibly easily and when Charles read with Max as little kids, Charles would slowly sound out the words as Max pressed his finger to each letter and word, and Charles had done okay then. It was little Max that had helped teach little Charles to read. He’d never questioned it nor had anyone else. Everyone thought he simply was a slow learner. 

And yet, all it had taken was Carole being his personal tutor and she’d noticed it straight away. Getting Charles to accept it had been a battle she’d had going on whilst he’d applied to LCF, and now that that was over, he had to focus on helping himself. LCF was one way, and learning whether he needed educational support was another. 

“I think I’m dyslexic,” Charles whispered as they walked home, Percy trotting happily between them, “Well, Carole thinks it, I don’t know what to think to be honest.”

“Because you struggle with your spelling?”

“And my reading speed. There’s slow reading and then there’s apparently me. I can read stuff off screens fine if it’s close to me, but when it’s paper or I’m sat at the back it gets hard. I don’t know. It’s like the words run off unless I press my fingers to hold them down.”

“You know if that’s true, if you are, it doesn’t change how we think about you. Dad will probably be pissed because it should’ve been noticed before now, but people get diagnosed with dyslexia late, Charles. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. And it doesn’t make you stupid,” Max nudged him with his elbow, “ _You_ make stupid decisions, but being dyslexic doesn’t make you stupid. You work a bit slower and you get some more support, but it’ll be okay.”

“Isä said that too. I told him I go to lunch support for English and French,” Charles admitted, “Carole thought it might help out a bit.”

“Is it helping at all?”

“A bit. They got me to do some tests the other day where I read and write my coursework on my laptop compared to paper. It can change how I do my exams, so they need to know.”

“Access arrangements,” Max nodded, “If they’re testing you, they probably think you stand a chance of the diagnosis. Is it all aspects of academia that affect you or is it just the word stuff?”

“Word stuff,” Charles confirmed, “Speaking and writing French is fine, but the second reading comes into anything my brain just gets it all muddled. And then I struggle with the writing stuff in English and German as well. It’s like I can’t make sense of the letters anymore. For some reason, they just won’t stick on the paper unless I’m physically like holding them down. But, I don’t know if people just haven’t noticed because I never put the effort into school so it just went unnoticed and any mistakes I made, you and Dad always fixed anyway before I handed in homework so it seemed like laziness on my part rather than an actual issue.”

“And when I kept pushing you away when you wanted help with your English coursework, did you know then?”

Charles shook his head. 

“Carole mentioned it a couple weeks ago, after I started applying to-” Charles abruptly cut himself off. 

“Applying to what?” Max questioned, seeing the fear overtake Charles’ features. 

“I don’t want to tell you right now,” Charles said instead, “I promise I’ll talk about it, but not now. I need to show you something before I tell you. I’ll show you and Dads at the same time, I promise.”

Max looked like he wanted to argue, as though he wanted to know right then and there, but he could tell Charles was feeling vulnerable and he was looking exhausted after admitting some stuff that clearly terrified him. He couldn’t push Charles now or Charles would never admit anything ever again. He needed his brother to be comfortable and Charles needed his brother to trust that he wasn’t going to lie to him. He would talk. Just not right now. 

Not before he had his sketchbook in his hands and he could prove to them that he was talented and that he had a very strong chance of getting into LCF. Not because of his name or because of his body, but because when you saw the work that Charles could create it showed you what he was capable of. The way his mind would twist and bend and embrace the things that scared most people and he’d end up creating something that _no one had ever seen before_. It’s what he told LCF, it’s what he had to tell himself. There was no way he could embrace his talent if he didn’t understand what it was that he was able to do. 

And his sketchbook was the product of him. It was his life and his livelihood. 

It had memories he couldn’t share with anyone else in it. 

The only way that his family could understand what art meant to him was by letting them into it. To understand the way Charles’ mind worked, you had to understand that whilst he was an extension of Max, his art was an extension of them both. His art encapsulated them both in a way that Max would never understand, but Charles had to make him understand. 

Valtteri had told him that he understood art when he saw it through the lens of Charles. Charles had to hope that his twin and his dads would see it that way too. 

He’d destroyed his villain, but he hadn’t destroyed the deviance that ran through his head yet, the one that told him he wasn’t good enough or talented. And the only way that Charles could do that was by allowing his family to see his talent, to see the way that Charles poured himself onto a canvas and some fabric and would entangle the two in a slow dance that left you wondering where one finished and another started. 

“Why do you always call me the Golden Boy?” Max asked abruptly just before they arrived back home. 

The walk back had been silent, much like it had begun, and as a result the question caught Charles off kilter. 

“What?”

“You always kept calling me Golden Boy, like I’m perfect or something, and I don’t know why.”

“You’re fucking joking, aren’t you?”

“No,” Max frowned, “I don’t get it.”

“Because that’s what you are,” Charles told him, staring at Max in such a way that he was frustrated with the confused expression adorning Max’s features, “You’re the golden boy, the special one, the one that can do whatever he wants. You bat your eyelids and Dad lets you do whatever you want. Your boyfriend sleeps over _all the time_ , you got to invite your boyfriend to the gala, you’re the one with amazing grades, you’re the one that is going to Kings, you’re the one that has Dad’s coworkers going ‘oh he’s so brilliant’. _You’re the one who can do no wrong, Max_.”

“I’m not though it’s not-”

“You really don’t see it, do you?” Charles said, pulling Max to a stop, “Dad finds out I slept with someone at a party, away from the house when I was sixteen, I got grounded. You literally have sex with your boyfriend when I’m in the room next door, and you get nothing. It’s double standards, Max. Just because you’re smart.”

“I’m not the golden boy,” Max whispered, “I don’t want to be.”

“Better to be the Golden boy than the family disappointment.” Charles shrugged.

“You’re not a disappointment! And you were Dad’s favourite growing up,” Max looked down at his feet and fiddled with the lead, “Because you could talk to people, and you were funny. You were cute. I was just weird. I’ve always been weird. I can’t do anything like what you do because I’m terrified all the time. I always wanted to be more like you. I don’t like being like this, I don’t like my head and my brain and I don’t want to be treated differently because of it.”

“I was never the favourite,” Charles denied.

“Yeah you were. And I’m not angry at you for that, don’t think I am. We’ve spent our entire lives wanting to be more like each other. I always thought you were the Golden Boy because Dad pushed you. I just coasted on through. The only time they paid attention to me was when my anxiety got diagnosed. I always wanted them to pay attention to me the way they did yto ou.”

“They only paid attention to me because I was a brat.”

“I wanted to be like that,” Max admitted, “I wanted to be more like you.”

“You don’t want to be like me, you’re too good.”

“And so are you. Maybe we just have different definitions of what makes a person good.”

“You’re still their golden boy.”

“I don’t want to be. I want to be normal.”

“You’re never going to be normal, Maxy, you can’t be. You’re a genius, and they’re always going to be more proud of you because of that.”

“I don’t want to be the golden boy, I don’t want the double standards, and you’re right, it’s not fair. We’ll talk to them, the two of us, we’ll talk to Dads and get this sorted.”

“We don’t have to,” Charles shrugged, “I’ve been dealing with it long enough.”

“You shouldn’t have to though, Charles,” Max reminded him, “Stop accepting things as fixed in stone and let’s carve a new beginning. We need to start fresh, all of us, and we need to talk to Dads about all of this because of it.”

Charles shook his head but kept walking. 

Max was right, but it didn’t mean he had to like it. It was frustrating being Max’s brother, of course it was, but Charles understood why his parents pushed harder on Max now. There was a lot riding on him and his future and Max needed that more than Charles did.

But Charles needed it now too.

He wanted LCF more than anything and he needed his parents to push him to believe he would get it. 

Once they got back onto their street, Max went to drop Percy back off next door and left Charles to go back home himself. 

It was like moving iron as he pushed the front door open. 

His Dad stood up straight away, walking through from the kitchen and Charles abruptly closed his eyes as he flinched, pulling into himself and bracing himself for impact as though his Dad was going to smack him. He never had, but Charles’ entire world had been distorted lately and he had no idea what to think or feel anymore.

When his face got buried in the soft warmth of his Dad’s chest and the vibrations of his Dad’s apologies echoed through his soul, Charles breathed a sigh of relief. He kept his eyes squeezed shut. There was a tidal wave resembling _The Great Wave off Kanagawa_ threatening to dismantle him. And Charles knew it would. 

But for a moment, whilst he could still stand without his knees buckling under the resignation that his Dad knew without having to say anything that Charles wasn’t going to lie about whatever had happened, he fought back. 

He was the boulder, and this time he wasn’t scared. He wasn’t an unmovable object anymore, and he knew that the previous unstoppable force was now going to transfer to being Sebastian. Kimi would end up having to fight hard to stop Sebastian killing Mick, Charles thought, but he didn’t mind. 

He’d tried his best to be okay but with the way Sebastian was cradling him and shushing away his anxiety, Charles knew it wouldn’t be long before holding his breath wouldn’t work anymore and all the words poured out. 

Because he knew that his Dad believed him. And Charles didn’t need to burn himself under the fire of this pain anymore, and all the stories would pour out, slowly unburdening his soul as he tried his best to _just be okay_ with being vulnerable for once. 

And it was all because Charles knew that his Dad believed him. 

“I think we need to talk, don’t we, baby?” Sebastian whispered.

Charles nodded, keeping himself tucked as tight as he could into Seb’s front. His eyes were squeezed shut and he couldn’t open them, and frankly, Charles didn’t think he could open his mouth and talk to his Dad without completely breaking down. 

“Do you want to talk now, or in the morning?”

“Morning,” Charles croaked. 

Another set of arms wrapped around him from behind and another set from each side. 

“You silly little shit,” someone whispered, and Charles knew it was Valtteri’s voice coming from his left.

“I’m sorry,” Charles whimpered, slamming his mouth shut and burying his hands over his face before the emotion could escape.

“Nothing to be sorry for,” Kimi said, “Absolutely nothing.”

“We love you, kid, you know that, don’t you?”

“I love you too Dad,” he replied, and slowly he cracked, and the tidal wave descended and if it wasn’t for his family holding him up, Charles would’ve collapsed under the weight of it all. It was like he was boneless, as though all the worry and the fear was lifted because his Dad said he loved him. 

“I’ve got you, pieni,” Kimi whispered, taking Charles’ weight and lifting the tiny teenager up. 

Charles wrapped his arms and legs around his Isä and quietly sobbed.

He could feel Kimi carrying him up the stairs, refusing to open his eyes. It was like he was a little boy all over again, when Charles would refuse to walk and he’d clamour and cry until his Daddy picked him up. And when his Dad tucked him into bed, wrapping the blankets tight around him and kissing his forehead, Charles felt at ease. Charles curled onto his side, burying his face in the pillows and breathing deep to try and stop the tears from escaping further. 

He felt the bed dip on either side and two bodies slid in, his brothers bracketing him in on either side. Charles creaked an eye open and saw his Dads knelt at the side, looking at their three boys with love and worry evident as clear as day. 

“Get some sleep boys, we’ll talk in the morning,” Sebastian told them, kissing all three boy’s foreheads and making sure they were all tucked safely in. 

For the first time in a long, long, _long_ time, Charles felt okay. Not the kind of _okay_ he’d felt after going into school and not having a freak out because of Mick’s assault, but _okay_ in the sense that he knew he was safe and that his brothers wouldn’t let anything happen to him. It was okay to let himself feel vulnerable and it was okay to cry and let them see. They’d keep him safe because that’s what families did. 

It wasn’t that late, and whilst Charles hadn’t eaten, he couldn’t. He was that exhausted that he wanted nothing more than to cocoon himself in the safety of his family and sleep for a thousand years. His brothers quietly put a movie on Charles’ tv, and Charles curled himself into Max, Valtteri’s arm wrapped around them both to keep his baby brothers safe. Charles felt at ease enough to close his eyes and let himself breath. He didn’t need to be scared and he didn’t need to be on edge. 

It was okay and he could go to sleep, he didn’t need to worry anymore. 

His brothers had him. 

His dads had him.

He was going to be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so
> 
> they finally talked :)
> 
> also yes I made max a psychology kid bc I love psych and delving into behaviour and the whole speech Max gave about learning to let go and stuff is just the kind of shit I spew when people are having breakdowns to me
> 
> There's definitely more conversations that the twins need to have, and there's conversations coming with his Dads, but Charles has made a start and that's more important than anything else.
> 
> kudos comments and feedback always greatly appreciated
> 
> Tumblr @ 3303andmore idk why you’d come and shout at me there today but you might


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **CONTENT WARNING: Charles carries on talking**
> 
> Family love is important love❤️

Charles slept restlessly through the night, waking up a couple times with his heart in his mouth and screams dying on his lips. 

“You’re okay, you’re okay,’ Max would whisper, running his fingers through Charles’ hair and rocking him in the same way that Sebastian had the previous evening. 

Eventually Charles would drop back off to sleep, his hand encased in Max’s and them both smiling at the way Valtteri was getting closer to falling off the bed. Charles was small and Max wasn’t much bigger, but Valtteri was short and broad and three teenage boys in a double bed wasn’t exactly the wisest decision. No matter what, though, it made Charles feel safe and being stuck with his brothers so close when he’d spent so long pushing them away felt good for once. 

“Are you mad at me?” Charles whispered at one point when he woke up, his voice barely above a whisper as he dragged Max out of falling back to sleep.

“Never, it hurt when you punched me but it hurt that you couldn’t trust me, and I know that’s my fault, but I’m not mad at you, I just feel guilty,” Max explained sleepily, “I’d never be mad at you for being scared of people touching you without your consent.”

Charles nodded.

“Okay,” He accepted, “I’m sorry anyway.”

“If you apologise one more time I’m going to smother you with the pillow,” Max groaned, smacking Charles lightly with the back of his hand, “It’s 3am, go to sleep you dunce.”

“Okay,” Charles repeated, smiling when Max opened one eye to glare at him. 

Eventually he fell back asleep and the only thing to wake him again was Valtteri getting up at 6am for his hockey practice. 

“I’ll be back at 9, be ready to talk then,” Valtteri said, ruffling Charles’ hair and winking at him, “And get your sketchbook ready.”

Charles nodded and closed his eyes again, curling up against Max and pressing his forehead against his, their hair falling into each other’s. They weren’t identical, but when they were asleep, their souls would entwine and they were pulled into one being again. It was the one time that they were able to lose themselves in each other, the twins connecting in a way that was hard to understand but was special to them.

The final time that Charles woke up, Max was fast asleep still, sprawled on his front and stealing approximately 78% of the blanket and quilt. 

And so, like any good little brother, Charles’ solution was to brace himself carefully against his bed, place the souls of his feet against Max’s side and push, sending his brother flying to the floor and landing with a thud. Charles giggled and grinned cheekily when Max’s head popped up from where he’d landed, rubbing his hand over his head as he glared at his twin brother. 

“You little shit,” Max admonished, flying back up and tackling Charles onto the bed, carefully tickling his sides and sending Charles trashing.

“AH STOP IT, YOU SHITHEAD, I’LL END YOU!” Charles screamed, laughing hard as he tried to push Max away. 

Max’s hands never stopped dancing across Charles’ sides, his fingers playing a pattern as he worked up to that spot in between Charles’ 3rd and 4th rib on the left side, the spot that no matter how many times you caught Charles there, he’d scream with laughter until he was in tears. 

Eventually Max stopped and Charles was able to regain his breath, his chest heaving and a happy smile on his face. 

It had been a long time since he’d laughed like that. 

“I hate you,” Charles said, looking across at Max.

“I’d say feelings mutual but I don’t want you to go and get yourself battered again,” Max said, tentatively testing what kind of mood Charles was in. 

“Nah, I’m done doing that anymore,” Charles shrugged, “I don’t want to talk about it, but it’ll be good to do it. And I hold every right to smack Dad with a pillow if he acts like a dickhead.”

“Hear him out,” Max made him promise, “When he says something, don’t immediately jump down his throat and don’t have an attitude, just listen and then explain. I know that that will be hard for you, but listen to him, and talk to him. Don’t just kick off. Be slow and be patient, because we don’t know what happened and we can’t help you if you won’t explain things properly.”

“Yeah I promise, but I still retain the right to smack him with a pillow.”

Max laughed and shook his head.

“Never change, Charles,” Max told him, dragging him into a hug and holding him like precious glass, “You’re perfect, my insane little brother.”

“I’m literally three minutes younger than you.”

“And I’m three minutes wiser because of it,” Max joked. 

“You awake, boys?” Kimi asked, as he opened the door, smiling at the way the boys were sat cross-legged in front of each other. 

“Why is the blanket on the floor? And the quilt?”

“Max went exploring,” Charles smiled angelically.

“Little fucker pushed me onto the floor,” Max corrected, glaringly mockingly at Charles.

“Did you steal the blanket? Daniel said you do that a lot.” Kimi asked, smiling as Charles cackled at Max’s reddening face. 

“Remind me to smack my boyfriend,” Max muttered to Charles. 

“It’s good to hear you laugh again, Charles,” Kimi said, interrupting the boys, “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you smile like that.”

Charles looked down bashfully, twisting his lips nervously to the side and biting his bottom lip. 

“Anyway, breakfast, your brother is finally done stinking up the house and your Dad is going to start crying if he doesn’t get toast within the next ten seconds,” Kimi said, ushering the two lads up. 

“Carry me!” Charles screamed, jumping onto Max’s back and sending him toppling forwards, barely avoiding losing his balance.

“Stop jumping on me you dick!” Max complained, but he hooked his arms under Charles’ legs and carried him to the stairs.

“I’m not going down the stairs with you on my back, that’s a death-trap.”

Charles whined but climbed down, following after his brother and Dad. 

Whilst the night before, Charles had wanted nothing more than to be wrapped up in his Dad’s arms and kept safe, the prospect of seeing him now was too much and Charles’ heart started racing. 

His Dad had seemed like he was going to believe Charles last night, but now in the cold harsh Saturday morning light, Charles wondered whether it had just been his racing fear chasing him towards an end of all his pain and suffering that made him feel safe in his Dad’s arms, when in actuality he was running down an endless corridor, where his Dad would never catch him and save him, but instead stay just out of reach, eternally disappointed that Charles was never able to succeed. 

“Charles, look at me, it’s just breakfast, we’re not doing anything but breakfast right now, it’s going to be a normal Saturday morning,” Kimi said, holding Charles’ jaw in his hands and running his thumb gently back and forth. 

“I’m scared,” He whispered.

“It’s just breakfast. You do it every single day,” Kimi reminded him, smiling comfortingly.

“Just breakfast…”

“Just breakfast,” Kimi confirmed, tugging Charles forward slightly to take him into the kitchen. 

His Dad had his head bent over a file as the twins trudged in, only looking up to smile at them both before he said to Kimi,

“Where’s my toast?” 

The twins instantly started laughing as Kimi rolled his eyes. Their Isä always made breakfast on the weekend, whilst Dad did it during the work week, and every single week, Dad, without fail, would find something to question what was happening. It was never said in anger or annoyance, but instead more their Dad trying to wind their Isä up, and no matter what, it always made Charles smile. 

“Morning kids,” Seb said as the boys took their seats at the table.

“Morning Dad,” the Twins echoed in sync.

“Still freaks me out when you do that,” Seb said. 

The twins had had an uncanny ability to say entire paragraphs completely without rehearsal growing up, and it had freaked out numerous people. They didn’t do it so much now, but whenever they did it, it was incredibly weird. 

“What is, Dad? This? It’s just us saying hi,” The twins said, which had their Dad stare at them like they were possessed.

“That’s really creepy.”

The twins grinned identical smiles, which had their Dad close his file and bat it at them both.

“Stop acting like children and eat your breakfast, the lot of you,” Valtteri said as he came in, stopping to grab his espresso as he folded himself into his chair, pulling his leg up until he could rest his chin on his knee. 

“Where is it?” Valtteri asked Charles.

“I’ll fetch it later,” He said. He saw their Dads and Max look at them both confusedly, but Charles ignored it, instead focusing on eating his cereal as he thought about what he was going to say. 

Did he have to start at the very start, or could he just tell them what they needed? 

No probably not

It wouldn’t make sense if he kept skipping around.

He wouldn’t have to start at the _start_ start, but maybe just somewhere along where Mick had started to hit him? 

Charles knew, however, that in order for his family to understand why he’d done what he had, he’d have to be open about everything, and that included starting at the fact that Charles didn’t like the way that Max always came first. 

“Val, can you text Lewis? Ask him to come over?”

“Charles we need to-”

“I need Lewis there.” Charles said resolutely, cutting off his Dad before he could say that they needed to talk. 

Lewis had promised him that he’d be there when he spoke about what had happened at the Gala. When Mick got his black eye, they’d been quick to blame Charles, and there was every chance that Mick had twisted his Dads onto his version of the truth. Trying to convince them that the angel boy had battered Charles was already going to be hard enough, and he didn’t want to rely on the fact that Mick had initially pinned Max into the wall as the only way they would believe him. The bruises would speak volumes themselves, but having Lewis there to confirm that Charles hadn’t want Mick to touch him regardless of what that psychopath said instead would give him some comfort that he could only hope he wouldn’t need. And Lewis had seen things, been involved in things that Charles hadn’t been able to look at or remember clearly. He couldn’t comprehensively make his dads understand if he didn’t know everything that has happened.

Valtteri showed Charles the text messages when Lewis text back. And Charles smiled. He’d apologise to Lewis one day for what had happened between them in the past, and if the way he smiled at Valtteri was any indication, he really needed to learn to get along with the guys his brothers fell for. 

Lewis’ text said nothing more than ‘tell the kid I’ll be there for him❤️’ but to Charles, it meant the world. He’d given Lewis a lot of shit over the years for his golden-boy nature, in the same way that Lewis gave Charles shit for sleeping with someone that Lewis had been trying to get a date with. They’d always clashed but it was time that Charles started to grow up and accept that you don’t need to hold a grudge forever. There were some people that could be forgiven and that was okay. Lewis could be forgiven. He’d saved Charles when he needed him and he made Valtteri smile. 

That was all that mattered to Charles. 

It was only once Charles had finished his breakfast that he murmured,

“I’ll be right back,” 

And scarpered up the stairs to drop and sit on his butt in front of his bookcase. Carefully he ran his fingers over the collection that brought him the most happiness.

His sketchbook from his GCSEs, his sketchbooks this year for textiles and art, and his current sketchbook that he did anything he wanted in, the very thing that he had taken with him when he went to LCF. 

That was what he needed in order for his family to understand him. Everything he’d put in his portfolio for LCF had come from these four places, and Charles knew that if he was going to make his family see him for everything that he was, he’d have to start with these. 

Charles stacked the four entities and closed his eyes for a moment, breathing in their familiar artsy smell that Charles didn’t really know how to describe but comforted him in the way that he’d never had before. 

_Be honest with them, they want to help you_

“I know,” Charles murmured to himself, aware that he was talking aloud to his monologue.

“It’s just a conversation,” Charles whispered, taking a final shaky deep breath and then pushed himself up. He didn’t look at his bed as he walked back out his room, knowing that if he looked over, he’d climb back into it and hide under his blankets and end up trying to block his door from opening. 

Talking to his parents terrified him, and Charles had never felt as out of his depth as he did right now. But he knew that this was the next stage in finding himself and finding happiness and redemption. 

Charles walked slowly down the stairs and headed straight into the front room. He moved the coffee table out of the way and sat down on the floor in front of the fireplace, underneath that framed artwork he’d done as a little boy, at just five years old. The first piece of artwork he’d ever produced that his dads had framed and displayed. Looking at it, Charles saw the way that his style had always been abstract, but since growing up had only embraced it further. And it made him happy. 

It wasn’t just seeing his evolving style that made him happy, but rather the fact that no matter what, this piece of artwork never moved and Sebastian always told visitors that Charles had been the one to produce it. He’d blush and hide under the praise, but deep in his heart, he knew that it was those words that made him want to be an artist. The look his Dad had always given him as a kid and the way his Isä would just hand over his art materials to Charles without question, knowing that their boy would create something interesting. 

He placed the sketchbooks in a stack in front of him and breathed as deep as he could to quell the waking anxiety in his soul.

Every breath saw his heart threaten to explode out of his chest.

“Hey Lew,” he heard his brother say. 

He’d never even heard the doorbell go.

“Hey man, how’s Charles?”

Charles didn’t hear a response from Valtteri.

Charles pushed himself up and awkwardly walked over to the door. He watched as Lewis dragged Valtteri into his arms and hugged him tight, kissing his temple as Valtteri’s back shook slightly.

“I should’ve noticed.” Valtteri whispered.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Lewis replied.

“He’s my little brother.”

“And he’s incredibly good at hiding things, Val, that’s Charles in a nutshell. You can’t blame yourself.”

“He’s my little brother, I have to look after him.”

“And I’m sure he said the same thing about his big brothers. You’re all stupid,” Lewis said, kissing Valtteri’s cheek and pulling him to look at him. “But you can’t expect to know everything when Charles hid everything from everyone, Val. You can’t blame yourself.”

Charles snuck back into the front room. He didn’t want his brothers to feel guilty and he didn’t know how he was meant to make them understand that what he did had nothing to do with them. It was him trying to stand on his own two feet for once and it wasn’t his brothers fault that he was an idiot who made a, in retrospect, stupid decision. Charles could only hope that they’d come to understand that one day. 

Charles did also feel like he’d infringed on a moment between Valtteri and Lewis. And Charles felt uncomfortable with that. It was weird enough seeing his twin brother with a boy, and now to see their big brother being affectionate was weird. 

But good.

Valtteri seemed happy when Lewis was around.

Charles hoped so. His brothers deserved happiness. 

Charles sat back down in front of his sketchbooks, looking at them in front of him and stared at them intensely. The idea of opening them up and showing his dads the things he’d created, and especially the latest portrait he’d done that Darren had impressed by at his LCF interview, it terrified him. But this was Charles. When the world got overwhelming and telling them what was going wrong in his head got too difficult, Charles could simply flick to another page and they’d see what his head struggled to made sense of. 

“Are you ready to talk?” Sebastian asked, coming into the room and sitting on the floor in front of Charles.

He nervously nodded.

“Only if you promise to not talk until I finish.” Charles bargained.

“Can I ask questions to verify what you’re saying?”

“Dad, you’re a lawyer, I know what your verification questions mean. Wait until I’m done.”

Sebastian held his hands up placatingly and nodded.

“Let’s make another agreement too. No getting mad at each other.”

Charles nodded.

“Whatever you need to say, or whatever you’re going to tell us, I love you. Remember that. You’re my little boy no matter what.”

Charles bit his lip and looked down, trying to fight the tears already.

“I know Dad.”

“I think you forgot somewhere along the way, and I know I didn’t help either. But we both need to talk, and when you are ready, the two of us will spend some time on our own, and we’ll talk about what went wrong with us too, okay?”

“I’d like that.” Charles confirmed. 

He dived forward and wrapped his arms around Sebastian, knocking him to the floor as he rested his head against his chest, feeling the love beat against his ear from his Dad’s heart. Sebastian cradled Charles against him for a moment, stroking his hand over his head and running his fingers through his hair. Charles pulled away first and sunk back behind his sketchbooks. 

Kimi, his brothers and Lewis were stood at the door. Kimi was looking fondly at Seb and Charles, almost as though he was proud of them for even starting to talk. Charles hoped he was proud. He wanted nothing more than to make his family proud and if his Dads were angry or disappointed in him, Charles was going to lose himself in the darkness.

Max dropped down to sit by Charles’ side, tenderly wrapping his hand around Charles’ when he saw Charles looked close to having a panic attack. 

“It’s going to be okay, you just have to go slow,” Max reminded him, “And I’ll be here the entire time.”

Charles looked shakily at Max, his eyes wide as he slightly shook his head. 

“I can’t do it,” He whimpered.

“Start slow, start at the beginning. When he came to school.”

Charles shook his head. He had to start before then. Charles let out a number of very shaky breaths and pulled his sketchbook into his hands, gently running his fingers over the letters of his name. 

_Charles Räikkönen-Vettel_

It was a name he’d always been proud to hold, but right now, being their son felt like the most terrifying thing in the world. 

“I don’t understand why you thought I was a bad enough person that I would’ve taken Daniel away from Max. I know I’ve done a lot of shitty things and I’ve done a lot of things to Max over the years that I sincerely regret, words I’ve said and things I’ve failed to do, but I would’ve never stolen Dan from him. And when you all assumed I had, and didn’t give me chance to explain myself before you were kicking off, or were trying to stop me talking to Max, it really hurt. And I know I have a reputation, or rather, had a reputation, but I’m not that much of a dick to hurt my brother. Either of them.” Charles started, his voice thick with emotion as he blinked furiously to try and keep his calm. 

“And I know you got angry and annoyed at me for the things I did to Max, I mean like ignoring at school and calling him a freak and stuff, but I’m so fucking tired of being ‘Max’s Brother’. I want everyone to just stop comparing me to him, I know I’m not smart and I know I’m not good at school, but I’m good at drawing. I’m _really fucking good_ at drawing. And I know that doesn’t mean shit in comparison, and you don’t think I’m going to university and you think doing art or fashion isn’t a good idea, but I want to.”

Charles could see the way Sebastian wanted to jump in, to say something and try and correct Charles or whatever, but Charles kept going. 

“Doing art, makes me different. And it makes me special. I can’t do academic stuff, it doesn’t make sense and being Max’s little brother has arguably made people not pay attention to my education in the same way because of it. Recently my tutor was looking at some of my work and she’s noticed a pattern in the way I learn and do my work, that might suggest I have a learning difficulty that makes the academic stuff hard.”

“What kind of learning difficulty?” Sebastian asked. 

“Dyslexia,” Charles admitted, “They don’t know for sure, and they’re kind of annoyed it’s took until now but…”

“Diagnosis can take a long time when you have a twin who doesn’t exhibit any symptoms of a learning difficulty. And diagnosis can be even harder to get when that sibling is compared directly against the one with suspected difficulties. It makes it difficult to notice when it manifests predominantly based around your reading and spelling and wasn’t picked up during the key developmental period,” Max intervened when he could tell Charles was struggling to explain it. 

“Yeah, yeah that’s what Carole said,” Charles nodded. “And so I get compared to Max literally all the time, in every single way, every single second of the day. And I know when you want to brag about us, it’s easier to brag about Max and Val ‘cause they’re smart, but I want you to brag about me, and I know I haven’t really done anything to show that you should, but I’m good at drawing, and people like it, and I think that should be enough for you to give a shit about me.”

Charles took a deep breath before he continued. 

“I wanted you to stop comparing me to Max, and I wanted you to think I could do something right for once, and it’s hard to explain the reasoning because I don’t think I entirely understand it myself, but Max is the Golden Boy, he’s your special prodigy, he’s a genius, and you know I’m prouder of him than all of you combined, because he’s my twin brother. And I don’t want you to think this is me saying I don’t want you to brag about him or I don’t want you to talk about Max to people, or Valtteri, it’s not Max specific I guess, but I think what I’m trying to say is that I’m trying to be my own person, and so much of me comes from him and I know that, but I’m still Charles. And I’m tired of not being Charles.”

Charles took a shaky breath and pulled his shirt off. 

“And the only way I could think to do that was by stopping him from being compared to me,” Charles said. 

He heard his Dads gasp as they took in the full extent of Charles’ bruising. 

“Mick started at our school end of October, something like that, and he didn’t like Max. I didn’t know why at first, but I know now it’s because he’s angry that Dad offered Michael a job over here and ‘cause he thinks you’re sleeping with Michael. The only way I could see to stop Mick hurting Max and keep Max happy, because God only knows how much shit he’s had thrown at him lately and he deserves to be happy for once, was by distracting Mick with me. I didn’t know how violent he could get, and I guess that’s my own fault, but I didn’t want you to find out.” 

Charles stopped to take a sip from his water and he saw that his Dad was tightly clutching onto Isä’s hand as he looked at the bruises adorning Charles’ body. 

“It’s my fault, I know that. I can’t talk to people and I deserved it after everything I did to Max. The only way I could live with myself was by letting Mick do this to me and let Max continue having a happy existence with Dan. Seeing Max happy made me think I was doing the right thing. And you may not think it was and I know now that it’s really destructive behaviour, but it kept Max safe and that’s what I care about. And during all of this, I started to get angry at you, Dad.”

His Dad looked up sharply and Charles made himself look at him. 

“I didn’t want to be around you a lot because being around you reminded me of the things I haven’t done and that I can’t do because I’m not smart. And all you ever did was tell me to grow up, or tell me to be more like Max, or tell I can’t do the things I love. And it pissed me off. It really pissed me off. I know I don’t always listen to you and I’ve screamed at you enough times, but you would never let me talk to you about art and fashion, because it’s not academic. And I don’t know why you think art is good enough for Isä but not for me.

“Carole seemed to know that something was up, and I never spoke to her because I’m not good at talking,” Charles looked over at Max momentarily, smiling at him, “And, I don’t know if you know, I guess you do because Valtteri has been applying and you said about going to the open days with Max, but we’ve been doing about uni in tutor. And I made a decision.”

Charles picked up his primary sketchbook and handed it over to his Dad.

“I’ve applied to the London College of Fashion.”

“You did what?” Sebastian asked, staring at Charles. 

“I’m actually waiting for them to tell me if I got the place or not,” Charles nodded, looking up at Valtteri and seeing the prideful smile on his face, “I submitted my application the night of the Gala, and then I got asked for a portfolio the day after we arrived in Finland. It was the day Max and Val went to play ice hockey on the lake. They offered me an interview on Thursday just gone, and Val came with me.”

He saw Max staring at him, Lewis smiling and Valtteri leaning back as he listened. 

“I didn’t want to tell anyone because if I don’t get in, I don’t want you to be angry or upset, or whatever with me. But look through that sketchbook and tell me I’m not talented enough to get in.” Charles said, pointing at the book and encouraging his Dad to open it. 

Charles watched Max lean forward as his Dad placed it down on the floor, gently turning the pages and looking at the creations Charles had done. His family and Lewis all stared as page after page of magic was shown, as the life Charles had cultivated in his head was poured onto paper.

Once he got to the final page, Charles stopped him. 

“That’s the drawing I started the night after Max punched me, when Dan came over for movie night. Isä asked me what I was drawing and I said it was a portrait. It’s the piece I’m actually doing next week for my mock exam. The subject is inspirational people,” Charles told them, “And I’m drawing you, Dad.”

His Dad looked up at Charles, finally dragging his eyes away from the piece. 

“You drew this?”

Charles nodded, flicking his eyes between his Dad and Isä.

“Took me a few hours to get the sketch together, and then I’ve been refining it since. I stopped for a while because I started when I was in a bad place, and then I had to make sure my portfolio was done for LCF, but I started it again on Wednesday night. I couldn’t sleep because I was scared for my interview.”

“How did it go?” Sebastian gently asked.

“I fucking smashed it, Dad,” Charles replied. 

The grin grew across Sebastian’s face and he nodded slowly,

“That’s my boy,” He said, pride evident across his face, before he looked at Kimi, “That’s our boy.”

“Told you he was a talented little shit,” Kimi said, smiling at him. 

“Why was you in a bad place, Charles?” Max reminded him, knowing that Charles had tried to skirt around the issue by distracting Dads with his talent. 

He looked across at Max.

“What happened, Charles?” His Dad said, his eyes fixing back on the bruises as though he’d be able to find out what had happened without Charles having to say. 

“The night of the Gala,” Charles started slowly, “I was angry at you because you had a go at me in the car for looking ‘moody’ and then when we met Michael, you just kept glaring at me and talking about Max and Val, and you grabbed me like ‘don’t touch alcohol’ and I know I said I was gonna get a drink, but I wouldn’t get drunk, especially not at something where I’m representing you. I’m not that stupid even though I wanted nothing more than to get absolutely smashed. 

“And I was pissed that you let Max bring Dan because the events are fucking boring, and I didn’t know that Valtteri was bringing Lewis later on, but like, you always said we had to look after each other, that we couldn’t bring a friend because it would change how people see us. And yet Max got to do whatever he wanted without you even thinking twice and I was pissed. And then you introduced us to Michael, and Mick was there and obviously you didn’t know but he’d been hitting me and saying a lot of cruel stuff to me for a while by this point. And Mick just swoops in and acts like an angel and he’s so nice and polite to you.” 

“He seemed like a nice kid,” Sebastian said, and Charles nodded.

“Everyone thinks that because they don’t see what he did to me. They don’t see him calling me a whore, or a slut, or a stupid little orphan, pointless, worthless, all that shit and all the bruises that came with it. He told me if he was you, he would’ve dropped me straight back off at the orphanage because why would you want me if you could have Max? And I think somewhere along the line, I started to believe him. And I got really tired of trying to get through to someone and no one listening to me. I didn’t want to talk to anyone and I didn’t want to go out and I didn’t want to party and do everything I did before Mick started because all it did was remind me of the reasons why I disappointed you. And then on the night of the Gala, he just like had enough of me I guess,” Charles said, his voice finally cracking. 

He took his hand out of Max’s and ran his fingers across the bruises on his arms and torso. 

“I tried to say no, and I tried to push him away, but he wouldn’t listen. He said that because I let the barman suck me off that I just want anyone, and I don’t, I’m not like that. I know you think I’m a bit of an idiot for sleeping around, but I always make sure that I have people’s consent and that, but Mick he just, he didn’t listen.” 

Charles’ voice was becoming quieter. He ran his hands across his eyes and let the sobs escape. 

“If it wasn’t for Lewis, I don’t know what he would’ve done.”

“He assaulted you, Charles,” Lewis said, “He did enough.”

Sebastian frantically looked back and forth between the two. 

“He did what?”

Charles shook his head, pulling his knees into his chest and burying his face in them. He frantically shook his head and could only hope Lewis understood what he was trying to say.

“Mick put his hand down Charles’ trousers, and I don’t know for certain what he did, but I know that he touched Charles sexually without his consent.”

“You have to believe me, Dad,” Charles whimpered, looking up at his Dad with watery eyes, “I tried to get him to stop, I really did. And I really didn’t want him to do it, but he wouldn’t stop.”

“Charles, tell me what he did to you, baby, it’s okay, just tell me what he did.” Sebastian told him, his tone authoritive enough that Charles felt safe but also still loving that he didn’t feel terrified. 

“He came into the bathroom, and he started saying this stuff about how I’m a stupid little whore and like all this shit about me having STIs and stuff, and he put his arm around my neck and kept kissing my neck and then he put his hand underneath my shirt and when I begged him to stop he said he didn’t listen to whores and I was his and just stuff like that,” Charles trailed off on repeating what Mick said, but it was all there. 

Every word that Mick said had taunted his nightmares and Charles couldn’t not remember what had happened.

“And he had me by the hips and he pinned me against the sinks,” Charles hiccupped out a sob, “And then he spun me around and he pulled my hair and he made me kiss him and it was horrible and I hated it. And then he put his hand down the front of my trousers, and he grabbed me, and started moving his hand. He only stopped because Lewis dragged him away and punched him or something, I don’t remember. It’s like my brain just shut off the second his hand touched me. I kept begging him to stop, please Dad, you have to believe me, I didn’t want him to do it.” 

“The second you said stop, he should’ve. I would never blame you, Charles,” Sebastian promised him and Charles finally let loose. 

He’d hoped his Dad would believe him but to actually hear him say that he didn’t blame Charles and he believed him destroyed any last resolve he had. 

“You believe me,” He sobbed, moving forward to fall in between his Dads. 

They both wrapped him up in their arms, holding the baby of the family between them as he sobbed in their arms. 

“I’ll always believe you,” Sebastian whispered, kissing Charles’ head, “The second you tell me something happened to you, I’ll always believe you. Fuck whoever it was that did it to you, we fucked up, Charles, and I can’t pretend for even a second that we didn’t, but what happened to you never, ever should’ve happened.”

Sebastian pulled Charles away from him and tenderly cradled Charles’ face in his hands. He ran his thumb back and forth over his cheeks, brushing away the tears as they steadily fell.

“I am so sorry,” Sebastian whispered. “I am so fucking sorry we let this happen, Charles.”

“No, I’m sorry, it’s my fault I was being stupid,” Charles sobbed.

“Don’t you apologise,” Kimi said, “Don’t. You weren’t being stupid. I told you to look out for your brother, if anything it’s my fault.”

“No!” Charles cried, “No! It’s me, I’m an idiot!”

“I should’ve seen what you were doing,” Seb said instead, “I knew you were acting different but I put it down to you being a teenager. But it wasn’t, it was you wanting help, Charles.”

“I pushed everyone away,” Charles shrugged, wiping his eyes to try and clear up his vision.

“You were scared, Charles, of course you’re going to push people away.”

“I just wanted to keep Max safe,” he whispered. 

“You’ve all got bloody saviour complexes,” Kimi muttered, dragging Charles and then the other two brothers into his arms and rocking them slightly, “Fuck, you’re as bad as your dad. The lot of you. Stupid little kids. None of you can make smart decisions.”

But it wasn’t said in anger. The tears were thick and his Isä’s voice was wavering as he cradled the three teenagers in his arms. 

“Thank you for looking after him,” Valtteri murmured, looking up at Lewis through the hug.

“No problem,” Lewis shrugged, “He’s important to you.”

“You’re important too,” Charles said, his voice wavering, “Val loves you for a reason.”

“I’m going to murder you when Dad isn’t looking,” Valtteri replied, staring at Charles. 

“You can’t, I’m emotional,” Charles told him, smiling cheekily through his tears.

“You’re a little shit is what you are,” Valtteri corrected, “You’re going to kill us all one day, Charles.”

Charles didn’t say anything more. His head hurt from all his crying and his throat was hoarse from all the speaking, but he could feel the love radiating from the people that meant the most to him and he dropped his head onto his Dad’s shoulder.

“Are you still in pain?” 

Charles shook his head. 

“My head hurts and I’m tired, but I feel okay, I don’t know if it’s just the relief or whatever, but I feel fine.”

“Do you want to press charges?” Sebastian asked as he ran his hand gently over Charles’ back.

“I can’t,” Charles whimpered, “Dad it’ll ruin you. I can’t stand there and tell people what he did to me. Dad, I can’t have people not believe me.”

“I don’t give a fuck about me, Charles. This is about you and keeping you safe,” Sebastian told him, “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. But people will believe you. The bruises are evidence, Lewis could give a statement, and if he hit Max, that’s another witness. You’re not alone. Once you start probing, the rats come out of the woodwork, and people will say what they saw, Charles. We just want to make you feel safe.”

“Charlotte said something to Dan ages ago as well,” Max said, “She’d be able to give a statement.”

“I don’t want to,” Charles said.

“Why?” Sebastian asked, “What’s scaring you?”

“I don’t want people to think I’m lying,” Charles whispered, “I’m not lying, Dad.”

“Charles, no one will think you’re lying. I can talk to Michael, talk to other lawyers, we can get Mick to enter a plea deal based around just the statements.”

“But if he refuses and gives a not guilty plea, I have to go to court, and stand there and tell them what he did, and if I see him there, I won’t be able to. I can’t stand there and have people doubt me because I won’t be able to tell them.”

“You wouldn’t have to be in the courtroom,” Sebastian carefully explained, “You can do it by video link, or by being in the room but not being able to see him using a witness protection screen. If you want, we can go to the office, and talk to Catherine, she’d be your lawyer for this.”

“I want you to do it,” Charles whined, “You’ll keep me safe. You believe me.”

“I do believe you, of course I do, but I can’t, Charles, you know that. It’s a conflict of interest. I know you and I know him, but more importantly you’re my son. And I won’t be able to go lightly on Mick. I’ll murder him, Charles.”

Charles pulled his sketchbook into his hands and ran his fingers through the pages. There were a number of drawings he’d done mid-late night breakdown in which he hadn’t been able to do anything but think about what Mick had done to him. 

“Is Catherine nice?” Charles asked a little while later.

“We can meet her before you make any decisions,” Sebastian promised, “She’ll be in the office tomorrow, if you want to.”

“Okay,” Charles said, “I don’t know if I want to press charges though.”

“That’s your decision. Would it be okay if I spoke to Michael about this, or would you rather I not?”

“I guess that’d be okay,” Charles nodded slowly, his eyes dropping shut on Seb’s shoulder.

“When do you find out about LCF, Charles?” Lewis asked, changing the conversation to give Charles a break from all the heavy stuff.

“Not for a while. They won’t finish interviews until March, sometime mid-March I think. So I think I’m due to hear in April?”

“That’ll be a good present just before your exams then.”

“Unless I don’t get in and then it’ll be a shit present.” 

Kimi smacked Charles upside the head.

“You’re the most talented artist I’ve ever met, and you are going to get in. Your art is phenomenal, Charles, and I’m a little bit mad that you kept it from us for this long. I could’ve been getting you drawing up the designs for the customers, save me a job. And once you’re done with doing your art and fashion at uni, you can come and be my in house artist,” Kimi joked but Charles knew he’d welcome him there with open arms.

“Dad always said I can’t do art though.”

“Because you never wanted to go to a uni that was going to push you,” Sebastian told him, “You never seemed to care about school, or uni, and suddenly you seemed to only want it because your brothers were getting it. I told you you’re not doing art because you didn’t seem serious, and I thought you were just doing it to be a brat.”

“I get A*’s,” Charles whispered, “In textiles. I never get anything less than full marks.”

“But we didn’t know that, Charles, we didn’t know that fashion designing and art in that sense mean something to you because you always dick around. You got kicked out of that class so many times when you were in secondary school, of course we didn’t see how serious it was.”

“Can I go to London?” He asked. 

He knew it wasn’t his parents decision, and he knew that regardless of what they said he’d still go given half the chance, but part of him still craved their approval. 

“If you’re committed and you’re willing to put in the effort, you can go wherever you want. I’d love for you to go to the London College. But make sure it’s the place you want to go, and not just where you’re going so that you can prove a point.” 

Charles nodded.

“I really love it there.”

“And if I go Kings, we’ll only be twenty minutes from each other,” Max smiled.

“All the more reason to go, I guess,” Charles said. 

Moving to university would see the twins live apart for the first time in their lives, which was a terrifying concept to people that had only ever been seen as One Entity. They were always The Twins. Max And Charles. 

But to only be twenty minutes from each other sounded okay. They’d have the space and freedom to grow and learn to be apart, especially living in halls of residence, they’d get flatmates and course mates to befriend. And the twins would finally be in a place where they could both embrace themselves head on. 

Not too far away from each other though. They still needed each other. 

“I think Dan is applying for a uni in London too,” Max grinned cheekily, “We could get a house together. The three of us.”

“And that means that I get to listen to you two having sex all the time? Yeah, no, I’ll live in the River Thames instead if that’s my only option,” Charles grimaced playfully. 

“I don’t want to think about you having sex!” Sebastian interrupted, which made the twins laugh. 

It was nice to laugh again. Charles still felt incredibly anxious and there were things that he still needed to get out in the open with his parents, but he’d started the conversation and Charles knew that once Lewis and Valtteri ‘went to do homework’ (Charles was pretty sure they were going to finally admit their feelings to one another) and Max vanished to phone Daniel, he’d explain more what had happened. Max and Valtteri would hear the details in time, once Charles was ready to share it all. But he’d made a start. 

And his Dad believed him. 

And Charles was so fucking relieved. 

\---- 

“Hey, Charles, are you up?” His Dad’s voice interrupted him the next morning and Charles groaned, turning away from the door and pulling the quilt over his head. 

“It’s early, go away.”

“It’s 10:30, Charles,” he said, pulling the blanket away and smirking at the evil grimace Charles gave him. “We need to be leaving soon if you want to go and talk to Catherine.”

Charles groaned but rolled out of bed, blinking sleepily as he looked at his pile of clothes on the floor.

“What do I need to wear?”

“Wear something comfy. Catherine will probably ask to see the bruises so wear something you can pull up or take off easily.”

Charles nodded and grabbed his black and white checked pyjama-trouser things and his black hoodie with little monster eyes on. 

He saw Sebastian stare at the pyjama-trousers and Charles grinned angelically.

“You’re a brat,” Seb shook his head, laughing at his youngest.

“A fashion expert, is what you meant.”

“I should’ve let you go to fashion college before now, maybe then you’d have learnt how to wear real clothes.”

Charles grinned as he followed his Dad out the house. He knew it wasn’t him being actually annoyed at Charles attire, at the end of the day, Charles had asked for guidance and these were his comfiest clothes. So it was entirely his dad’s fault. Charles was taking zero credit for this one.

As he climbed into the car alongside his Dad, Charles felt the atmosphere grow tense. When he’d spoken to his Dad yesterday, it was always with Isä by his side as he explained what Mick had done, going into more depth as he explained what went through his head as he dealt with the consequences of his behaviour. His Dad has comfortingly held him when Charles fell asleep at midday, exhausted and curled up under his Dad’s arm on the sofa, clutching onto him with all his might. 

But it was different now.

There was no buffer, no-one for Charles to hide behind, and all he could do was hope for the best.

Part of him was still convinced his Dad didn’t actually believe him, that he’d only said it because his family and Lewis were in front of him, but then Charles had heard Dad talking to Lewis later on. Listening to all the things Lewis had done and the way that he’d decked Mick to protect the baby of the Räikkönen-Vettel family. 

“When Catherine asks you questions, it’s going to be uncomfortable. And whilst she’s going to believe you, she’s going to say some stuff that is going to push you. She’s only going to say what the prosecution would, she has to pick holes in what you say because that’s what they will do if this goes to court.”

“Can I stop?”

“Yeah, of course. Any time you’re uncomfortable or something is said that hurts, you need to tell us. It’s both for your own protection and so that we can, as cruel as this is going to sound, use that if we need to. What triggers you will be the basis of our argument to talk about the psychological impact of what he did.”

“I’m scared, Dad,” Charles quietly admitted.

“I know.”

“I don’t want to become another statistic, another number in the scheme of people that finally get their shit together and then have to deal with CPS not being able to prosecute.”

“We’ll be the prosecuting team, Charles, and when it’s my team fighting for you, you know we’ll win.”

“But Mick-”

“Is nothing. He’s worthless. You’re _my_ baby, you mean something to me and my team. He means nothing.”

“Why did you hate me?” Charles suddenly asked, his voice going quiet, “What was it I kept doing that made you not like me?”

“I don’t hate you, Charles, I never hated you. You frustrate the hell out of me sometimes, but I’d never hate you. Your brothers drive me crazy as well, it’s what being a parent is.”

“But you always got more annoyed at me than you did Max or Valtteri.”

“Because you refuse to listen, you’re like me. Once you get an idea in your head, you won’t listen to other people. And trying to get you to talk, sometimes, is like pulling teeth. You’re insufferable.”

“You never listened either,” Charles pointed out, “All you ever said was I can’t do art.”

“Because you only ever said it when I tried to talk to you about uni in general, you never made a point about it any other time.”

“So why did you keep pushing me to go in translation instead?”

“Because I was trying to prove to you that it’s a hard job and you’ve got the skills to do it. I was trying to show you that you’re a clever kid, regardless of what you see.”

“You literally had a go at me for wanting to do art! You said I didn’t have the talent,” Charles said, his voice trailing off.

“I know, and it was a really shit thing to say. I can’t tell you why I said it, because it was a while ago, but I think it was the day I had a really shit client who had, this goes no further than between me and you, but this client was wanted for trafficking and abuse of young twin boys. And one of the photos of the victims reminded me of you. And I was just reminded of all the things that could’ve happened to you two if we didn’t adopt you. It doesn’t excuse what I did, but that’s the context behind why I was in a bad mood. I know when I said it you were angry and I should’ve come and talk to you and apologised and explain what was happening, but your Dad said that he had to, that you wouldn’t want to talk to me.”

“I would’ve thrown a chair at you,” Charles nodded.

“Have you ever shown Dad your art? Before now, I mean.”

“Not really, I was scared he’d say it was shit. And Dad is literally the best artist I’ve ever met, so if he thought it was bad, then he would’ve been right. I wouldn’t ever touch art again, Dad.”

“Your Dad adores your drawings. And the clothes you’ve designed.”

“This is what I’ve been trying to tell you for years and you never listened!”

“I know, I know, Charles, I focused way too much on Max, and Val, but I know it was mainly Max. And it’s like you said, we can’t pretend that Max doesn’t still have all these talents, but you doing art and fashion and going to LCF is one of the most amazing things I can brag about. My boy is going to one of the best schools for fashion in the world and I’m really proud of you, kid.”

“I might not get in,” Charles said.

“The second I saw your sketchbook, Charles, all of them, I knew. They’ll be stupid not to accept you.”

“Can you, can you not compare me to Max anymore?” Charles quietly asked, “I know it’s hard, but, I want to learn how to like myself and I really hate the person I’ve become, and you kinda don’t help me like myself any better by making me feel bad for not being like Max, if that makes sense.”

“You’re not meant to be like Max, Charles. You’re meant to be you, Charles.”

“So why do you keep comparing me to him?”

“Because whilst you’re like me, you’re so like Max, and you two don’t see it. All you ever do is call Max smart and Max calls you extroverted, like it’s a bad thing. But you two bring out the absolute best in each other, and so you two are so frustrating in that sense. When you were little, all you wanted was for us to adopt Max, and all Max wanted was for us to adopt you. The bond you two have always had is the most amazing thing in the world, and yet, you’re the one that has been trying to push him away. Max needs you just as much as you need Max, and it was frustrating to see you not want Max around anymore. 

“You’re two halves of a whole and you kept trying to change too much. It wasn’t just you wanting to expand and learn the world without him, but it was also you just being a bit of a brat. And you were being a teenager, it’s expected, but it was painful to watch. And the fact that you are so headstrong and so damn stubborn really made it difficult to get through to you.”

“Do you ever regret adopting me?”

“Never,” Seb said instantly, “Being a dad is the single best thing to ever happen to me, and I love it. Because I love you three. You’re the biggest pain in the arse and you’re giving us more grey hairs than we should have at this age, but it doesn’t matter, because you’re _my son_. I don’t care about my job or Michael or anything like that, all I care about is you, your brothers and your Dad.”

“You still love Dad, don’t you?” Charles tentatively asked.

“Of course! Why wouldn’t I?”

“I started to get scared, at least in recent years, that you were falling out of love with him, and I didn’t want you two to split up. I love you and Dad, and I want you to be happy.”

“Your Dad isn’t getting rid of me that easily, Chub. I adore him more than anything on the planet. It’s not just because I come home and I see him cooking with Max, or he’s drawing and now I see that connection to you, or he’s watching ice hockey with Val. It’s the tiny things you guys don’t see. And your Dad means the absolute world to me because of that. He’s my best friend as well as my husband, and that’s what you want in someone. Someone that makes you better and helps you be better.”

“Do you think Daniel does that for Max?”

“I’d think so. I wouldn’t be surprised if they were together for the rest of their lives, but also, Charles, you’re all still young, don’t stress about falling in love and finding someone to spend the spend of your life with. You’re seventeen, just have some fun.”

Charles nodded and dropped his head to rest against the window. They still had a while to drive to the office and he was quite exhausted, but he felt good. He hadn’t fully broken down the conversation with his Dad and there were definitely still things they’d have to talk about, but Charles understood him a lot more now. 

“Dad, are you proud of me?” Charles asked as he fought to keep his eyes open.

“I’m not proud that you got yourself battered instead of talking to us, but I’m proud for the way you’ve grown up and the way you’re embracing your art.”

“Do you ever wish I’d done law?”

“You’d have been an amazing lawyer, I’ve never met anyone able to find loopholes in literally everything quite like you. And you’re very argumentative so you would’ve done good. But I don’t think you would’ve been overly happy in the field, and I think while you would’ve done well, it’s not the field for you.”

Charles nodded and closed his eyes.

“Wake me up when we get there,” He yawned, pulling his hood over his head and dropping off before his Dad even had a chance to say anything else. 

“Wake up,” Sebastian gently nudged him not two seconds after he closed his eyes. 

But when Charles opened his eyes, they were no longer on the roads taking them out of their city and were instead in the parking lot of Dad’s firm. 

“We’re here?” Charles mumbled, “That was quick.”

“You’ve been asleep half an hour,” Seb told him, “Come on, kiddo, time to go and talk to Catherine.”

Charles stumbled his way up, shuffling after his Dad as he spoke to security. 

Charles had his head tucked down, tiredly rubbing his face as they walked. 

His Dad got caught by someone and started to talk about a client, and as Charles shifted on his feet, he quickly nudged his Dad and threw his hand in the direction of the bathroom just to the side. 

“I’m just going bathroom before we talk to Catherine.”

Sebastian nodded and murmured, 

“Don’t take too long.”

“I won’t,” Charles smiled. 

He dived in and quickly went about his business, and as he was washing his hands, the other cubicle door opened and he went stock still when he saw who it was. Who it was that was now stood between Charles and the door that would let him out of the bathrooms.

“DAD!” Charles screamed.

Mick grabbed hold of him and shoved him into the wall.

“What the fuck did you do, you little shit?!” Mick shouted, but before Charles could even blink Mick was off him and being thrown across the bathroom. 

Sebastian was quick to pin Mick against the wall and punch the teenager square in the jaw, Mick’s head snapping painfully and if Charles didn’t see him move he’d have thought his Dad had just broken Mick’s neck. 

In a feat of almost super-human strength, Sebastian gripped Mick by his jacket and slammed him harder into the wall, dragging him up so that only the tips of his trainers were touching the floor and his head ricocheting painfully off the tiles.

“If you ever, ever, even so much as look at one of my kids ever again, I will not hesitate to destroy you. You’ll never be a lawyer, Mick, trust me. I will make sure of that. You destroyed my son, and I’ll destroy your future. You’re a disappointment to your father.”

Charles watched as Mick cowered under the anger of his Dad.

“I’m sorry Sir...”

“Sorry isn’t fucking good enough,” Seb hissed, “Now get the hell out of my sight before I rip your little bastard head off your shoulders.”

If Charles wasn’t so shocked by his Dad’s behaviour, Charles would’ve laughed at the way Mick sprinted away. 

“Daddy?” Charles whimpered as though he was a little boy again. 

He fell into Seb’s arms, wrapped up in the warmth of his Dad as he kept him safe, sobbing hard in his arms. 

“I’m sorry,” He cried, “I’m sorry, Dad.”

“No, no, it’s not your fault, I didn’t know he’d be here, I’m so sorry, Charles, I’m so sorry. It’s my fault, baby, you’re okay, I’ve got you, he can’t hurt you anymore.”

Charles sobbed in Sebastian’s arms for a while longer, balancing precariously on that verge between panic and hysteria, but his Dad kept him grounded enough that he never quite tipped over the edge. 

“Are you ready?” He asked once Charles’ breathing had stopped sounding so frantic and instead he sounded calmer.

“Can you stay the entire time? Don’t leave me,” Charles begged, looking at his Dad with wide and panicked eyes. 

“I’ll never leave you, not when you need me,” Sebastian promised. 

Charles nodded and tucked himself into his Dad’s side, clutching onto his hand like he was a little boy and not nearly a proper adult. 

“Valtteri held my hand when we went for my interview,” Charles quietly admitted, which made his dad chuckle. 

“Bet he loved that.”

“Yeah walking through London with his little brother, yeah I bet he loved it,” Charles laughed.

“He’ll do anything for you, you and Maxy. I still remember how excited he was when we got to bring you home.”

“Did he help Dad decorate our room? I seem to remember being told that?”

“No, he decorated it himself, picked everything out and then told your Dad where to put things he couldn’t reach. He was entirely the brains behind it, we just did what he told us to.”

Charles smiled. Valtteri had always been the odd one out of them, he was very different to his twin brothers and yet he still cared for them in a way that Charles knew no one else ever would. 

“He’s a good brother,” Charles said.

“You’re all good kids, we really lucked out with you three.”

Charles wanted to respond, but instead his throat closed up. 

In front of him was Catherine’s office and she was already in there, smiling at Sebastian through glass panes of her office, whilst someone else spoke to her.

Charles knew that back of that body. 

“Dad?”

Sebastian squeezed Charles’ hand once and slowly pushed the door open. 

“We’re pressing charges, Michael.” Seb said before Michael even got a chance to say anything. 

“I was hoping you’d say that,” Michael said. 

He looked tired and resigned and when he looked at Charles, he looked devastated.

“What my son did to you was absolutely diabolical, and I cannot apologise enough that he did that. It was out of order, it was horrifying and the fact that he continued to hurt you even after he got warned by your brother’s boyfriend really speaks to the idiocy of him. I cannot express how angry we are at Mick, and I cannot tell you how much I hate that did this to you, Charles. He will plead guilty, and you will receive justice. I am so, unbelievably, sorry, and I know that doesn’t make up for it, but he won’t hurt you anymore. I was actually talking to Catherine about sorting out a restraining order, and we’ll be removing him from the school by the end of today. He won’t be able to see or contact you anymore, Charles. Ever.”

“Thank you,” Charles whispered, before looking up at his Dad, “Is that it? Is it over, now?”

Sebastian nodded, dragging Charles into his arms. 

“It’s over, baby. We’ll still have to take a statement and Catherine’s going to want to take photos of your bruises, but after today, you never have to even think about him anymore. It’s over, Charles.”

Charles sighed. 

This was it. 

He was done. 

It was over and he was okay. 

And his Dad had done it. 

He’s kept Charles safe, because he was magic and his Dad always made things better. 

Charles didn’t feel anything. He didn’t feel relief or happiness or anger or sadness. 

He felt empty. 

Every fear and worry and ounce of pain was all gone and all that was left was a chance for him to move on. 

It was time to start fresh and Charles couldn’t fucking wait for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m just?? So proud of Charles?? He’s grown so much and the next chapter is more of an epilogue than anything. But he’s just, grown so much and I’m so proud of him and the journey he has taken to get to this point. 
> 
> Conversations can’t be had in one day/weekend and there’s a lot of things that Charles still needs to dissect, but baby steps can be massive steps sometimes and he just deserves so much happiness. 
> 
> I’m so proud of him and this entire family. 
> 
> And Seb for that excellent self-restraint tbh
> 
> (also is anyone else sobbing that Charles' drawing that he's been doing of his inspirational person is Seb? Just me? okay cool)
> 
> Kudos, comments and feedback are always appreciated.
> 
> Tumblr is @ 3303andmore but i don’t think I’ve given you anymore reasons to shout at me but if I have hit me with it😂


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well
> 
> this is it folks
> 
> it's been a blast and I've loved this an awful lot. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy x

Charles was exhausted when he woke up on Monday morning, and the thought of dragging himself into school was terrifying. He could barely look at himself in the mirror without hating everything and wanting to curl up in his bed, and here he was having to convince himself to go into school and have the eyes of people staring at him all the time. He could barely manage having his own eyes on him. How was he meant to cope with the eyes of 300+ people seeing the bruises and the splits in his skin and the coincidental vanishing of Mick without everyone putting two and two together that there had to be a correlation between it all? 

The answer was he couldn’t and he didn’t want to do it either. 

Charles pushed himself out of bed, hoping one of his parents would still be around so that they could ring in and get him an authorised absence. School were going to be aware of what had happened, Mick was going to be leaving anyway of course, and Charles knew that they’d push his mocks back to give him time to recover. He didn’t want that. He just needed a couple of days to learn how to readjust to a changed world, then everything would be fine. It wasn’t like he had a mock exam today anyway, he didn’t start until Wednesday. Instead it was only some revision classes he was missing for English. 

It was as though he was slogging his way through quicksand with how heavy it was dragging his body downstairs. There were a couple times that Charles nearly lost his balance, his exhaustion, headaches and lack of eating over the last few days catching up to him, and so to save any hospital visits after Charles would inevitably fall down the stairs, he dropped down onto his butt and pushed him down like he used to as a kid, when he was scared of the stairs and wouldn't walk down them without his Dads helping him.

“Where’s dads?” Charles asked once he stumbled into the kitchen, seeing no one but Max around.

“Dad’s at the office and Isä has an appointment.”

Charles frowned and looked at the time. Either they were both starting really early or something was different?

“Is that clock wrong?”

“No, it is 9:40,” Max shook his head, showing Charles the time on his phone.

“We’re meant to be in school!”

“We’re not going to school today,” Max told Charles as he encouraged Charles to go and sit down at the island whilst he buttered some toast. “Valtteri’s gone in already. He’s got a mock second period so Dad dropped him off. But because we both don’t have our first mocks until Wednesday, Dad phoned school and said we’re not coming in today. And so, we’re going to stay at home, and watch a fuckton of Netflix and you’re going to teach me to understand what happens in that weird show you watch.”

Charles didn’t say anything, just sniffed and nodded. He couldn’t say anything. There was nothing that he could say that would explain to Max just how much that was what he needed. What they both needed. 

After what had happened, the twins needed time to reconnect. Charles needed to apologise. He needed Max to understand why he did what he did.

“And maybe you can tell me about LCF?” Max tentatively asked.

“I’ll show you my portfolio,” Charles said softly, before taking a tiny bite of his toast. It was sticking in his throat and he needed to chew it a million times before it was okay to swallow, but he was eating it. And that’s what mattered.

“I’d really like that,” Max nodded, sliding across his glass of apple juice. “Take that. I don’t want it.”

Charles knew he did. They always argued over the apple juice. It was their favourite drink. And Charles knew that when he’d swigged from the carton last night, there was only enough left for one glass. And Max had given it up for Charles.

It was tiny considering everything that Charles had given up for Max, but in that moment, after everything that had happened, it meant the absolute world. 

Charles felt his eyes prickle with emotion as he cradled the glass in his hands. He looked down into the amber pits of happiness, seeing his own dejection reflected back. 

But then he smiled. 

And it felt okay.

“Can we watch it in your room?” Charles asked, “I think I need to stop hiding in my room.”

“Of course,” Max said, sitting down and tugging his chair so that he was sat as close to Charles as he could. 

Charles dropped his head onto Max’s shoulder and closed his eyes. 

“I’m going to put my arm around you, is that okay?”

“Just not my waist,” Charles whispered.

He smiled when he felt Max’s arm come to rest on his shoulders.

“I’m so sorry for being an absolute shit to you. What I did, I keep thinking about it. When I punched you, that was just after the Gala, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Charles confirmed, “I was hurting so bad, and I had to take it out on someone because I was terrified. You were just caught in the crossfire.”

“Dan and I had had an argument just before I saw you,” Max quietly told him, “I know it doesn’t excuse anything, but he’d said something about being worried about you and I said I know but there’s nothing I can do and Dan got pissed. He said there’s always something you can do and I was just being petty by not doing anything. I was annoyed at him and then when you started saying that Dan just puts up with me and I’m weak, it caught me hard, which I know is what you want, but when I punched you, it wasn’t you.”

“It’s like you’re looking at a shape, it’s not a person anymore, it’s a being that you can use and hurt and it doesn’t have any ramifications. But it does, because ultimately you end up hurting the person that means the most to you.” Charles said, “When I punched you on Friday, I was terrified. I actually thought Mick was going to kill me. It wasn’t just me being scared of him hitting me, I’ve grown used to that now, but there was this look in his eyes, and Max I swear that was it.”

“I hate that you’re used to him hitting you.”

“I hate that Daniel told you to talk to me and you didn’t.”

“Would you have told me? I tried to talk to you after the Gala, and all you did was say you’re fine.”

“I’d just been sexually assaulted Max, I didn’t even know what the fucking day was. Of course I didn’t want to fucking talk then.” Charles snapped, staring coldly at Max. 

“Sorry,” Max said, “Sorry that was uncalled for. It’s just, we’ve all tried. Me, Dad, Val, Lewis, Dan, fucking hell I even spoke to Carole and you know she doesn’t like me, Charles. We all tried to get you to talk, what was it that your brain was doing to you that made you unable to talk?”

“The fact that I didn’t think I deserved to be listened to, I guess? Valtteri spoke to me at Christmas, tried to get me to talk, and I was like, ‘I can’t talk to people when I don’t understand my own head’ and the thing is, I genuinely don’t understand it. All I understand is that I had to protect you, and I was doing anything I could do to do that. It was weird, I can’t explain it.”

“What did you think would happen if you told us? Or if Mick had gotten his hands on me?”

“You wouldn’t have been able to handle it,” Charles admitted, “What he did, even just the things he said, it was painfully hard to not break down at, and I was fine at first because it’s either stuff I’ve thought of before or it’s stuff that hurt but I could deal with. But then it started to get painfully true, and he said that if he was Dad, he would’ve just abandoned me. And all I could see was the fact that everyone was abandoning me and not seeing what was going on.”

“We did see, Dad sat me and Val down about a week ago, and he asked us if we knew what was going on. You’d gone from being loud to being quiet to becoming obsessed with cleaning your room. We did notice, probably way too late, but you didn’t see everything. And you didn’t hear the conversations that we had without you.”

Charles sighed and shook his head. 

“I’m tired of talking about this, Max, it's all we've talked about for the past couple of days and I just want to forget about it for a while. We all fucked up, and I know we all need to talk still, as a family, but I’m fucking tired.”

“Grab your bottle and we’ll go watch that casa show,” Max said. 

“La Casa De Papel, treat it with respect you dick,” Charles grinned.

Max rolled his eyes and the twins made their way upstairs. Charles quickly dived into his room to grab his iPad so that he could pull his portfolio up for Max and then climbed into bed beside Max. 

“Here,” Charles said, grabbing the remote of Max and manoeuvring the screen to Netflix whilst Max was tasked with looking through his portfolio. 

Charles pulled Max’s arm so that it was around his shoulders and dropped his head onto Max’s shoulder. He lazily watched the screen whilst Max zoomed in on his drawings, his fingers spinning in Charles’ peripheral vision as he turned the pictures to see the detail in his drawings. 

“I can’t believe you hid this from us for this long, you’re so talented,” Max whispered, “My talented little brother.”

“Still only three minutes younger,” Charles responded, yawning as he nuzzled his face against the soft fabric of Max’s jumper.

A jumper Charles knew was distinctly Daniel’s, because he A) doubted his brother would ever wear a bright purple Laker’s hoodie or B) have a hoodie that stank of vanilla and fuel. How Daniel managed to get that fuel smell on every single item of clothing he owned was bizarre. 

But it made Max happy, and when Charles felt his eyes pull closed, the weight of Max wrapped around him as he drifted off left him happy. It had been a long time since Charles had felt happy in Max’s presence like this, but falling asleep with Max's complaining about how terrible the TV show was echoing quietly and a smile playing on his mouth left him content. 

“Why are you home already?” Charles heard Max whisper, but the idea of opening his eyes was painful. 

“Two day suspension,” Valtteri replied, “Your boyfriend and Lewis had to drag me off the bastard. Dunno what he was doing there, but I battered the shit out of him.”

“How does he look?”

“Can’t even tell it’s his own face anymore.” 

Charles felt his heart racing as he realised what his brothers were saying. 

Mick had threatened to fuck up Charles’ face so badly no one would ever recognise him. And Valtteri had done that instead. 

His brother. He’d kept Charles safe and he’d proven to Mick that no matter what, the Räikkönen-Vettel boys had each others backs. 

And Charles could sob at the relief of it all. He had a family that genuinely loved him and he couldn’t deal with it. 

He was loved and it was okay. 

He could let them in and he’d be okay. 

He had saved them and now they’d saved him. 

It was all going to be okay. 

——— 

**FEBRUARY**

Charles never saw Mick again. 

Yet it wasn’t as liberating as he thought.

He’d received a letter from the Crown Prosecution Services confirming that Mick had a sentence of five years to be served in a youth detention centre until he turned 18 and would complete the rest of his sentence in adult prison, both for the assaults against Charles and also another charge brought against him of assault accusations brought up after Catherine and Sebastian had started collecting statements from people. Charles didn't know who had made the other assault accusation, but apparently there had been even more evidence than what was coming up from Charles, and he hated the idea that Mick had been able to hurt someone else even an inch as much as he'd hurt Charles. And Charles wished he could know who it was, could go to that person and just talk to them, to express relief with someone that understood it properly. But Charles also understood that sometimes you just wanted to forget, and he respected that the other individual involved wanted that. 

Amidst his sentence, Mick would also have sessions regarding _anger and challenging mindset education_ and Charles would be offered somewhere along the line an opportunity for he and Mick to be part of a restorative justice offender-victim reconciliation programme. It was meant to involve Charles and Mick being in the same room and talking, to understood each other's point of view but Charles didn't care about Mick's view. Charles had already made it clear that he wanted no part of Mick’s rehabilitation. Once Mick was released, that was an issue for the CPS and the Parole services as Mick was sentenced go under a community supervision order for a further two years. 

Michael had mentioned to Sebastian about having Mick complete this supervision order back in Germany, back home, far away from Charles to give him the freedom to grow and learn to not be scared of the outside world without the threat of potentially seeing Mick. But Charles found that he didn’t care. 

He didn't care about Mick and he just wanted him gone. 

He wasn’t scared of Mick anymore. 

He was angry. 

He was pissed.

He was upset.

He _wasn’t_ scared.

Instead Charles found the lack of liberation from Mick’s guilty plea odd. He’d expected to feel relieved and finally free to live his life the way he wanted, and yet all Charles felt was nothing. 

It was like his brain had switched off for three months and all that was left behind now was some blurry shapes and some scars that would never go away, and some nightmares that when they visited would have him run into Max or Valtteri’s room and curl up in their space. Occasionally, when both his brothers had been out at their respective boyfriends, Charles would run up to the top floor and curl up between his parents. It didn’t seem to matter who held him, but the second someone he loved had their arms around him, every bad thought went away. 

Aside from the scarring, there was nothing there. 

No guilt. No pain. Nothing.

It was pure emptiness.

The first few days had been fine, he’d started to be _okay_ with the knowledge of what had happened and he was _okay_ when it came to opening up about it. 

But there was something in his head that stopped him from being _okay_ with moving on with his life. 

Max had sat with Charles when he sat his parents down and said,

“I think I need to go to therapy.”

“Okay.” Sebastian agreed without question, “For what aspect?”

“The guilt, I think,” Charles guessed. “I don’t feel anything for what happened.”

“If that’s what you think will help you, we can do that,” Kimi nodded.

“It’ll do you good,” Max promised.

Charles wished he could believe them. Right now, he was stuck in this spiral of endless nothingness and whilst initially it had been great to tell his family everything and they tried to treat him as normally as possible, there was still an element of it all that left Charles feeling like a fraud. 

Why should he smile and be happy when he’d spent three months suffering?

Why should he be content with his life when all he knew was pain?

Charles thought ending Mick’s connection to him would leave him free to learn who he was, but Mick’s mere knowledge of existence was enough to halt anything Charles could do. 

“Are you at risk of harming yourself?” Sebastian asked frankly and Charles stared into the distance for a moment as he considered it.

“I don’t think so. I don’t want to die or anything, I just don’t feel anything. It’s like every emotion has just vanished.”

“It could be some PTSD,” Max gently suggested, “Depression, anxiety, something along those lines.”

“I’m just tired, all the time.” Charles told them, “It’s like, I can get lost in some art or fashion work and do it for hours without even noticing and then the next second it’s like if I don’t go to sleep straight away I’m never going to know how to sleep ever again.”

“It’s okay that you feel like this, Charles, what Mick did to you-”

“I miss it.” Charles whispered.

It was barely audible but the weight of the words made it seem as though he screamed it. 

“What?”

“I thought once he stopped I’d feel better, I’d feel relief but now everyone is asking questions and people are noticing me again but for the wrong reasons and I don’t want it. I just want to go back to how things were. It was easier when he was there. I don’t feel better and I don’t feel happy about it. I want everyone to stop.”

“How long have you felt like this?”

“Since I got the letter from CPS.” Charles shrugged.

The letter had come more than three weeks ago, and yet it was all Charles could think about.

“I’m really trying my best to be okay, and I thought I’d got it all figured out, but it’s like every time I open my mouth, nothing leaves me. And I feel like I’m holding my breath every single time that I try to say something because it’s like the words won’t actually come out, even though I’m saying everything I need to. I just can’t make sense of it. And I need someone to tell me I’m not crazy for that. I need someone to tell all these stories to and let it leave me so that I can understand what the fuck is wrong with me. And I think I need therapy for that,” Charles said, his voice cracking and burying his head in his hands, tears dripping between his fingers and pooling beneath his feet. 

“You’re not crazy, baby,” Sebastian murmured, dropping forward to kneel in front of Charles and pull him into his arms, “You’re trying so hard and you’re doing so well, but it’s okay to not be okay. And every single day you’re doing a little bit better, and if you think therapy is the best way for you to go forward, we’ll find you the perfect therapist.”

“I’m trying my best, Dad,” he whispered, hugging his Dad tight.

“And you’re doing amazingly, it doesn’t mean you can’t have a bit more help. You’ll be okay, son, when you’re ready.”

Charles nodded shakily and pulled back. 

The tears streamed fast down his face and it was reflected back on his Dad’s face, but his Isä was sat at his feet and gently rubbing his hand over Charles’ knee and his Dad was thumbing away the tears whilst Max rest his head on Charles’ shoulder, and Charles knew that whilst it didn't feel okay at the moment, it was still too new and raw for it to be okay, it would be one day because he had his family to help him. 

“Family meeting or family breakdown? Am I mediating an argument or am I mediating a crying session? What’s the vibe?” Valtteri asked, stood in the doorway of the front room with his hockey equipment balanced over his shoulder. 

“Breakdown,” Charles laughed through the tears. 

“Cool,” Valtteri nodded, “Well, let’s deal with that then.”

Valtteri dropped his bag onto the floor and clambered over everyone to sit behind the twins.

Charles pushed Valtteri away once he was settled, knowing what his brother was trying to do.

“You stink.”

“Now you’re going to make me cry.” Valtteri said, staring intensely at Charles but he could see the hint of a smile in his eyes when he saw Charles break a grin. 

“Boys, for the love of everything holy, don’t start fighting now,” Sebastian admonished, rolling his eyes. 

The eldest and youngest looked at each other and smiled. 

This was what Charles had missed. The easy camaraderie and the winding his Dad up and his family just being normal. 

Charles’ head wasn’t normal but it would be, because he had these people. 

And one day, Charles would have this himself. He’d have a person to spend the rest of his life with, nieces and nephews running wild and children of his own, with his Dads looking on fondly. 

And whilst that seemed far, far away, and Charles still had a fashion degree to go and storm the world with first, it was nice to know that his brain was still able to think happy thoughts. 

He hoped that the happy thoughts would continue. 

——— 

**MARCH**

“I need to know,” Amy said, stopping Charles from leaving class one day. “I have four weeks until the showcase, and I need to know.”

“I don’t know,” Charles whispered, “Do you seriously think I can do it?”

“Yes I do.” Amy said fiercely, “Do it, and prove to every single person that Mick didn’t destroy you. You’ve come back stronger than ever, fuck the rumours, Charles. You are one of the strongest people I know, and I want your clothes on that runway.”

Charles originally had ended up having the first week of mocks off, and now, Charles had to deal with the rumour mill running wild. He’d been back at school for nearly a month and yet he still was dealing with people’s commentary every single day. 

People accusing Charles of making it up, or saying it was simply a bad break up and he didn’t like that he wasn’t getting his own way, or saying it was Charles wanting the attention. But some people had said that they believed him, some had stood by Charles. Some people had even apologised to Max once they realised what Charles had done to look after him, and Charlotte had sobbed when Charles came back to school, clutching tightly onto him and crying for a solid ten minutes. Charles had held her on his lap, tears falling from his own eyes as she apologised profusely. 

“I’m sorry, I should’ve done more,” She sobbed.

“No,” Charles shook his head, “You tried, you told people, I’m just a dick that doesn’t know how to talk.”

“You’re my best friend,” Charlotte told him, “And I hate that you did this, and when I found out what happened I wanted to kill you. But I know you, and you’re stupid and you’re a hero and you’re the best person I know. But never, ever, do this again. Because I’ll punch you so hard you’ll see stars.”

“Has anyone ever told you you’re a little bit terrifying?”

“Yes.” Charlotte nodded. “You. A lot.”

Charles hugged her tight and smiled. No matter what, he could always rely on Charlotte to threaten to kill him at least a couple times a week. 

And it was knowing that he had Charlotte, his two brothers and their boyfriends there to walk with him to class and sit with him at lunch to remind him that whilst people were shitty sometimes, no matter what, there were people that would never leave him behind. They all needed each other and it was good. 

Life could be good. 

But the idea of putting a piece into this showcase was marginally terrifying. 

And by marginally terrifying Charles meant incredibly shit-scary terrifying. 

“Do you honestly think I can do it?”

“You’ve got an idea, right?” Charles nodded, and Amy continued, “Then stop faffing about, get some fabric and do it.”

Charles ducked his head and thought for a second. 

“Can I do anything I want?”

“Keep it appropriate and write me an explanation to read out, and you can do whatever you want.”

Charles sighed. 

“Fine.”

“You’ll do it?”

“Yes,” Charles whispered, “I want to show them all that I can do it.”

Amy grinned and Charles blinked as he furrowed his brow. 

Part of him was convinced it was a terrible idea and whilst he’d been more open with his art stuff around his family, he’d still yet to show them a completed item of clothing. And the idea he had could genuinely be too much for the first thing he showed them. 

But his family always said he was dramatic. 

His family always said he couldn’t do anything by halves. 

His family always said that Charles had to always do the best in the room. 

And this idea could be that. 

Everyone was going to make something standard, an outfit or a jacket. But Charles couldn’t do that. He couldn’t do standard. 

He’d spent way too long trying to draw himself into the background, it was time to catapult himself into the foreground.

Charles was ready to be centre stage, and he’d drag Max along with him. 

Charles didn’t need to be alone on the stage anymore. He could bring Max with him. 

They were twins. 

Two halves of a whole. 

Two halves of the same soul. 

And Charles needed that. 

No longer did he have to be afraid or annoyed with sharing the spotlight with Max. 

In fact, Charles actually found he quite liked it. 

There was nothing more cathartic than sharing the stage with his brothers. 

And there was nothing more cathartic then getting to bring all the things he loved together into one entity. 

And so, it was when Charles was in his bedroom that evening, running his fingers over the fabrics that he’d smuggled back home with him and hearing Max run downstairs that his mind drifted back to something Carole had mentioned way back in November. 

This was it. This was his opportunity. 

With his brother distracted, Charles jumped off his bed and walked as quietly yet quickly as he could next door and stuck his head into Max’s room. Daniel was sat cross-legged on Max’s bed, his jaw resting on his fists, as he read through a textbook with pages of text that made Charles’ brain fuzzy and he hadn’t even gotten close enough to read it properly.

“Hey Dan, can I ask you something?” Charles asked. 

He’d spoken to Daniel a fair bit since everything had fit the fan, and the two had put their long running not-quite-feud-but-not-quite-friendship to rest and bonded over their love of Max. Daniel had smacked Charles upside the head in a way that felt way too paternal considering he was only a few months older than the twins, but was meant in the most loving way, when they’d finally had chance to talk about things. 

Daniel’s knuckles had been bruised at the time, and if Charles had to have guessed, he wondered if they’d come from when Daniel had apparently dragged Valtteri off Mick. He heard rumours that whilst he’d dragged Val off Mick, it hadn’t stopped him going in for a couple of rounds himself. And as grateful as Charles was, he was trying to stop remembering Mick. Trying to stop remembering the way that people were sacrificing themselves for him. Charles had done enough of that. It was time to ignore it. Time to pretend that the fucker didn’t exist and leave him to rot in jail whilst they all got on with their lives. 

Charles’ therapist still made him talk about Mick, but it was getting easier to ignore him in his every day life, and Daniel, funnily enough, was one of the big reasons for that. Charles couldn’t focus on Mick’s existence when he was too busy worrying about Daniel taking care of Max instead. 

And whilst the Charles and Daniel were okay now, Charles still felt a little bit nervous around the older student. 

Daniel had been the catalyst between the argument the twins had endured back at the start of October, back when Max’s only concern had been Charles potentially stealing Daniel from him. Daniel was great, and he always would be, but when Charles looked at him now, he still felt an element of nerves around him. This was the boy that meant the most to his twin brother, and Charles knew that he had to care about Dan if he wanted to care about his brother. 

“Sure, what’s up?” Daniel said, without taking his eyes off his work. 

“I need your help.” Charles asked gently. 

Daniel finally looked up, glancing over Charles as he saw the embarrassed hold of his body. Daniel grabbed a pencil and stuck it in the book as a bookmark and held his arms wide.

“I’m all yours, what can I help you with?”

Charles breathed deeply and smiled. 

Dan was a good guy. He was glad his brother had ended up with him. He deserved someone like Dan. 

Everyone deserved someone like Dan. 

————  
**TWO WEEKS LATER**

“Charles?” The knock came to his door, and Charles quickly scrambled up, dragging his jumper over his head to hide the paint splatters on his arms and rushing to the door, pulling it open and stepping out before whoever it was tried to come in.

“Hey Dad, what’s up?”

“You’ve been hiding in your bedroom a lot recently. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine.”

“What are you up to?”

“It’s a secret,” Charles said, “I promise Carole and my therapist know about it, and they both know precisely what I’m doing, I promise it isn’t bad. But I’m working on something that I don’t want you to see yet.” 

“You’re not getting lost in yourself again, are you?”

“Nah,” Charles smiled, “I’m on FaceTime to Charlotte anyway.”

“Oh,” Seb grinned as Charles rolled his eyes at the tone of his Dad's voice that suggested Charles was flirting with her even though everyone knew Charlotte was definitely not into Charles at all, “I’ll let you get back to her then, tell her I said hi.”

“Definitely not going to do that,” Charles smiled, “What time’s dinner?”

“Not for another hour or so, I’ll send Dan to bang on your door when it’s ready.”

Charles sighed and shook his head. 

“If he yodels again, I will stab him.”

Sebastian laughed and dragged Charles into a hug. Charles melted under the hold of his Dad and took a moment to allow his racing mind to slow down. What he was busy doing was taking a lot out of him, and whilst he was loving it and having Charlotte on the other side of the screen (unable to see his materials or what he was doing but she was there) made him recognise he wasn’t alone, it was still nice to have his Dad hug him. His Dad had definitely made more of an effort with Charles lately, and whilst it was still awkward and there was still conversations ongoing, it was better.

Charles liked better. 

“Okay, I gotta get on, Dad,” Charles reluctantly said, wiggling free from Seb’s hold and stepping back into his room. 

Seb quickly shouted through a ‘hi Charlotte!’ which had Charles shout a 'go away' in response and Charlotte giggle, but it was worth it. 

“God, your Dad is hot,” Charlotte said dreamily.

“LA LA LA LA LA YOU DID NOT JUST SAY THAT ARGH!” Charles screamed, slamming his hands over his ears as Charlotte fell about laughing. Charles laughed through his screams as well, grinning broadly at Charlotte as she started to stutter out all of the reasons why Seb was hot between her giggles. Which Charles just found oddly disturbing more than anything. 

And reminded him to never let her near his house. 

Ever. 

Okay he would, but he just wouldn’t let her near Seb. 

Okay maybe he would. 

He really had no power to stop her.

“You’re a pain in the arse, Char,” Charles grinned, which had Charlotte grin and wink cheekily at him.

“And I’m your favourite so deal with it.”

Charles didn’t know, but outside his room, Seb was stood leaning against the wall. It had been a long time since they’d heard Charles laugh so carefree and cheekily. He was glad his boy was happy. 

Seb really hoped that LCF accepted him. Charles deserved it more than anyone. 

————

**APRIL**

Charles was exhausted. 

And if he saw a thread or needle at all today he would scream. 

His entire body ached, his fingers hurt and his mind was running so fast Charles was genuinely surprised that there wasn’t steam exploding from his head. 

“Charles...” Max whispered, walking into the kitchen where Charles was curled over the island counter.

“What?” Charles whined. He wanted nothing more than to curl under his quilt and sleep today, but there was no chance of that. Not only would his mind not allow it, but it was Friday. The last day before the Easter holidays and therefore the last day of term. 

The last day. Meaning it was the day of the Easter showcase. 

And Charles had work to present. 

“Charles...” Max repeated.

The way Max repeated his name made Charles nervous and when he looked up, Max was holding an envelope in his hands. 

“Is that it?” He whispered, his eyes stuck on such a simple thing but what could change everything.

Max nodded nervously.

He handed it over and Charles looked at it. 

“I’m not opening it yet.” He decided. “I don’t want to be distracted.”

“Are you sure?” 

“Don’t tell Dads it came. We’ll deal with it tonight. Today isn’t about me. It’s about Val and Dan and Lewis. We sort this tonight, not yet.” 

Max nodded and came forward to hug Charles tightly. 

“Whatever the result, we’re proud of you, okay?”

Charles nodded. 

“I know.”

Charles waited until Max left before sliding the envelope into his bag. He may not be opening it yet, but today was the day that he stopped hiding his work from his family and the world. Having this letter within his backpack whilst he sat there with his family so they could see the one thing he loved more than anything would give him the courage he needed to keep going. It was going to be okay. 

Charles had to have faith. 

He was good enough. He hoped the London College of Fashion agreed. 

But having that letter in his backpack, resting between his sketchbook and laminate dividers to help him read his textbooks now that he’d been diagnosed with dyslexia, burned a hole in his bag. He’d grown so accustomed to the feeling of bruises on him that it should’ve been a moment that Charles felt reminded of what he’d been through. 

But this was different. 

This was a gateway to his future and there was every single chance that when that letter was opened, he’d be denied his future. But Charles didn’t think so. He couldn’t think it. 

It didn’t stop it from burning its way into his body and imprinting onto his mind to the point that the first thing Charles did upon getting into school was run up to the tech corridor and slam his way into Amy’s classroom, nearly falling over himself as he sprinted in. All his energy threatened to send him catapulting straight through the doorway and across the classroom before shooting him out of the window. 

“Charles? What’s wrong?!” Amy asked, standing up from her desk and walking over to the shaking, nervous wreck of a seventeen year old. 

Charles dropped his backpack onto the table, carefully took out the preciously folded fabric and rest it on the table, before frantically jamming his hand into his bag. It was a red hot poker, jamming against his skin as he caressed its hard edges. 

“I want you to open this. Not now. But I can’t do it.”

“Is that-”

“It came this morning. Do with it what you will, but, just open it. And know what the answer it. I don’t know if I want you to tell me or not, but I can’t open it at home.”

“Do you want me to tell you at the showcase if it’s a good result?”

Charles thought for a moment and then smiled.

“Yeah,” Charles agreed, “Scream it as loud as you want. You helped me get even to the point that they wanted a portfolio, the fact that that now holds the decision on whether I’m going to London changes nothing. Regardless of what it says, you made me a better person, and you made me embrace something that should’ve terrified me. But you allowed me to speak through a medium that left so much open to it, and I can’t thank you enough. You deserve to know, just as much as Carole, and just as much as my family.”

“Okay,” Amy nodded, “Whatever the answer, I am so proud of you. You were such a little brat in year seven and I knew, even then, that there was something special about you. You’ve grown in a way that I am so immensely proud of, and you should be proud of yourself too. No matter what. If you don’t get in, of course you can be upset, but you try again. There’s always next year. There’s always a gap year. There’s always other colleges and universities. It’s not the end. But you deserve this, Charles, you deserve a chance of happiness.”

Charles felt himself tear up at Amy’s words. 

“Thank you,” He said, his voice cracking lightly.

Amy looked back at him with teary eyes.

“You are brilliant, Charles. Never, ever, forget that.”

Charles dived forward and hugged Amy. 

He was learning that hugs were one of the best forms of affection. So small, but so especially intimate. They conveyed emotions that Charles didn’t entirely know how to verbalise and yet whenever someone wrapped their arms around you, it was like everything was okay. 

It wasn’t just someone telling you they loved you. 

It was them telling you they’d keep you safe, that they cared, that they wanted you to be happy. 

Charles liked those kinds of hugs now. 

“So, what you need to do, is you need to act normally, okay? This isn’t anything different to any other day. It’s still a Friday, you’ve still got class second period and French last, and when you’re done in French, you come here and Dan will be here too and we’ll check everything is okay. It’s nothing different until the day is over, okay?”

“Nothing different,” Charles repeated, nodding slowly. 

Half of Charles thought that he’d spend the day riddled with anxiety, but it turns out when you’ve had a dyslexia diagnosis for only a couple of weeks, getting used to reading and finding that words aren’t running away when you look at them sends you right back to nursey school in terms of basically having to relearn to read, and it proved to be quite a good distractor. 

Charles spent the remainder of first period sitting in a corner of the library with a book that used a dyslexia-friendly text and his dividers, and slowly started to try and read the words to himself. He knew he looked crazy, silently mouthing words and pressing his finger to the page like a little kid would, but when he’d been little, it was Max’s finger that had stopped the words running off, and now Charles’ could do it too. 

It was like six year old Charles was screaming in glee every single time he read a word without stumbling. 

Charles hadn’t been able to read a sentence without having to go really slow for a long time. It was nice for things to make sense again without him needing someone by his side. 

Not that he didn’t want someone by his side, but Charles was starting to see the value in not measuring yourself by other people’s desires and worth of you. It was still lonely at times as Charles tried to balance finding worth in being alone and also try to not rely on his brothers too much, but slowly Charles was finding that there were people in his classes that genuinely liked him, and not just for his body, and it was cool. 

Charles wouldn’t wish what had happened to him would ever happen again or to anyone else. The one saving grace had been that good things had come out of it. 

The anxiety of allowing his teachers to convince him to showcase a piece tonight, however, was a whole other matter that he wasn’t too pleased about. 

Damn Carole and Amy and their ability to make Charles step out of his comfort zone. 

\--------

Charles was nervously pacing back and forth, his heart pounding violently in his chest as he waited. 

Everyone was starting to take their seats, and Charles knew that he had to go find his family. Charles had text his parents to say he had an after-school detention, and that he’d meet them at the awards ceremony that night when it started at 5, to save messing around. But as Charles stood backstage, Daniel happily busy talking to some of the other models, he felt the nerves creep in and all he wished was that he’d warned them. 

It was too late for that now. 

Through the curtain, Charles could see Max anxiously looking around as he searched for Charles. 

“You can go and take your seats guys.” Someone said, ushering them all out of the side entrance. 

Charles wondered if this was how Max felt 24/7. Just perpetual anxiety and feelings of dread as though your body weighed a million tonnes and wanted to stop you finding a sweet moment of salvation in someone’s warmth. 

He dropped into the chair beside Max once he’d snuck back through.

“What’s happening, shitface?” Charles said, trying to cover up the anxiety by being an annoying brat instead, ruffling Max’s hair.

“Where have you been? You didn’t have detention,” Max murmured, and it was only Charles slamming his fist into Max’s thigh that had him shut up. 

Charles loved his brother, he wouldn’t have gone through what he had if he did, but fucking hell did Max have an inability to filter himself sometimes. 

Max let out a yelp but the lights dimming stopped Sebastian from saying anything to either of them. They still got the trademark stare of ‘will you two stop?!’, which Charles counted as a marginal success. He could always rely on his Dad to be consistent with his looks. 

“In tonight’s award showcase, there will be a presentation of pieces of work from a number of our talented students. To start the show, we have a selection of some of our year 13s, who sadly celebrated their last day with us today, and who will be showcasing some of the amazing work that has been created over the last six months.”

Charles lent back in his chair as the words of the principal echoed over the auditorium. There was no going back now. Charles quietly let out a breath and slumped down in his chair. 

Carole caught Charles’ eye and gave him two thumbs up. Charles smiled back. 

This was all on him. 

And then it was out there. 

“First up, we have our wonderboy himself, Mr Daniel Ricciardo, showcasing a reversible cloak,” Amy’s voice replaced the Principle’s as the garments started to come out, “Designed by our incredibly talented year 12 student, Charles Räikkönen-Vettel, the piece encapsulates change.” 

Charles watched as Daniel strut down the makeshift runway. 

That was his work. His work on display. 

His work out there that he’d kept a secret for so long and now his dads and his brothers were seeing the one thing he’d never let them see.

Max turned to look at him, and Charles saw out of the corner of his eye the way both his fathers and Valtteri also leant forward. If he’d have looked at them, he’d have seen the tears of joy in Seb’s eyes. But he couldn’t. He was too busy watching the way the cloak flowed.

He hadn’t had a chance to see it earlier, he’d covered his eyes and only lowered his hands when Daniel left and Amy said it was absolutely perfect. 

And it was. 

It was beautiful. 

Max quietly linked his hand with Charles, squeezing it with pride as they watched each of their loves of their lives came together. Max’s Daniel and Charles’ fashion.

The final presentation of them as twins. 

“Charles designed the garment to showcase the relationship he shares with his twin brother, Max. Charles states that the intricate subtle lacework mixed with the bold colours he presented, represents his view and experience of being a twin. Max’s amazingly intricate brain mixed with the vibrancy of Charles’ personality, combined with the reversible nature of the cloak, are to show how even though twins can be different people, they’ll always be one unit.”

The twins fell into each other, gripping onto the others hand as tightly as they could as matching tear tracks streamed down their cheeks.

Sebastian leant across and dropped his hand over the twin’s joint fingers, caressing his thumb over their hands. 

Charles couldn’t let go of Max, and when Daniel looked across at them and grinned, it was all worth it. 

“In just over a year, Charles will be leaving us to go on and study Fashion Design and Development after being offered a place at the London College of Fashion, following his father’s steps into the art industry.”

Every breath dropped out of his body. 

He’d done it. He’d actually done it. 

The tears streamed quicker than ever before down his face as he looked at his Dad. 

His Dad who was crying just as hard and smiling so widely Charles was scared his face would break. 

He was going to art school because he was good enough. One of the best art schools for fashion in the world and Charles was going to it. Because they saw the potential in him. He’d forgotten what it was like to have someone believe in you. And part of him was still convinced Amy was lying, that she’d misread the paper, but Charles knew she hadn’t. Amy would’ve checked, triple checked and then had Carole check it too in order to be 100% certain. 

Charles was going to art school. 

And his Dad was beaming with pride. Max was crying. Charles couldn’t breathe in relief. Isä was close to tears. Valtteri was smiling like he’d known all along. 

Charles guess he had. He’d always said that Charles was talented enough to get in and he’d been there through the enough of the interview process to know that Charles was terrified of doing this, but had always told him he was good enough. 

Charles dropped his head onto Max’s shoulder and closed his eyes. He knew he should keep looking, should be seeing what the other students had made, but he didn’t want to. He needed a moment to collect himself. 

Finally it was all over. They were free of everything. All the shit that had happened with Mick was gone. All the shit that had happened between the twins was over. All the fear of being rejected from his dream was done. 

Charles had fought and screamed and yet he’d come through the hardest thing he’d ever experienced victorious. He’d done it and he’d proven himself as one of the best along the way. 

It took a while for the presentations of the clothing to finish, before it even started on the awards for the subjects.

Max and Charles stood up hollering in pride as Valtteri sheepishly got up to accept an award for his chemistry class, living up to everyone’s expectations that when you got the Räikkönen-Vettel twins together in the right context, they were pure chaos. 

The chaotic twins. 

They’d also done the same when Daniel was called up onto the stage to collect the trophy for guiding the football team to yet another back-to-back victory. His fourth year as captain. And his fourth year collecting the award. 

The only issue was, Charles hadn't exactly anticipated that this year was different, in that the second Daniel jumped off the stage he made a beeline for Max, dragging him up off his chair and dipping him low, Max’s arms only just catching around Daniel’s neck in time to avoid falling. Charles groaned good-naturedly as Daniel kissed the living daylights out of Max, and when Daniel righted Max, he kicked his leg out to joke to Daniel that he should leave his brother alone. 

But when Charles looked across and saw the blissful and embarrassed look on Max’s face, it was all worth it.

God this was going to be such good wind up material. 

Precious Golden Boy Max Räikkönen-Vettel getting kissed deeply infront of the whole school like it was him with the reputation. 

Charles liked this. It was a good role reversal. 

And Max seemed like he wanted to sink into his seat and never look at Daniel again, so Charles would say the entire night was a success. It was fun. 

His Dads had seen his fashion and his twin had given him good wind up material and his eldest brother had finally given the twins a chance to embarrass him within an inch of his life. 

Once the show was over, Kimi ruffled his hair and kissed his forehead, Valtteri bumped fists with him and Lewis said congrats. But it was Sebastian’s response that meant the most. Sebastian wrapped Charles up in the biggest hug he could muster, whispers of ‘I’m so proud of you’ repeated endlessly in his ear. 

Finally his Dad understood, he saw more than just the scared little boy who wanted LCF.

He saw the talented young man who got LCF. 

And he was proud. 

Carole came over to them and shook his Dads hands, barely saying a word to them before she smiled at Charles. When he looked up at her, Charles saw the tears pooling and the shaky grin on her face.

“I’m so, unbelievably, proud of you, young man. Start believing in yourself, because Lord knows you deserve it.”

And when Carole hugged him, Charles melted into her for just a moment and let the moment just exist. 

When Charles thought about how his life differed six months ago to now, it was like nothing made sense. He couldn’t see the timeline, couldn’t see how some being could’ve created something that made such little sense. It had started so bad but ended so well, and Charles didn’t understand it. He wasn’t religious, but there had to be something said about that omniscient presence that Max spoke about sometimes. Something that just led him down a path that ultimately would give him happiness. 

It’s like there was a lottery being played, and Charles had won it. 

He’d won the confusing life story with the happy ending. 

And Charles knew there was still more happy ending to come.

This wasn’t the end of his story. 

——— 

When a new kid started at the beginning of June, only five weeks before the end of year 12, Charles had instantly tensed.

He hid behind his glasses and hoped the new kid would ignore him. 

Looking at him, Charles thought that he didn’t seem like Mick. He doubted anyone would ever be as psychopathic as he had been, but Charles was still terrified. The new kid had to be good. He couldn’t let him get into Charles’ head again. 

Charles bent over his canvas and never looked up, trying to pretend that the kid walking around with a camera around his neck wasn’t anyone other than a normal student. 

“That’s good,” Charles heard someone say, and he looked up to see the new boy stood in front of him. 

“That’s good.” The new boy repeated, blushing furiously as he nodded at Charles’ work. “The way you can make the colours mix, it’s good. You’re very talented.”

Up close, Charles saw the blueness of his eyes, the few freckles and the little gaps in his teeth as he spoke, his voice thick with an accent only amplified by his nerves. 

“It’s just basic colour theory,” Charles smiled, “It’s nothing special.”

“It is. It’s good. You er, you have a lot of talent.”

Charles smiled bashfully and murmured back, 

“Thanks. I appreciate it.”

The other boy grinned sheepishly and nodded. 

“I er, I’ll see you around?”

Charles nodded slightly and blushed.

“Yeah sure, see you around.”

Charles watched the new boy walk off. He didn’t bother to avert his eyes when the new boy turned to look over his shoulder, the blush growing on his cheeks when he saw Charles watching him. Charles grinned and looked away first, spinning his paint brush between his fingers and tapping it against the desk. The door shut behind the new boy and Charles finally released his breath. 

Okay so there was no way this new boy was going to be anything like Mick. Charles wasn’t sure the kid even had an angry bone in his body. The kid looked soft, delicate, nervous. And Charles wanted to wrap him up in a blanket and tell him it was going to be okay. That despite how big and scary their sixth-form looked, it was okay. The people were okay. The food wouldn’t kill you. It was okay. 

Because it was now.

However hard Charles tried to focus on his painting led him to a slight issue in that no colour was working.

The new boy’s beautiful aqua eyes kept showing up in his mind every time he tried to mix a blue that would fit with what he was creating. However nothing would match the stunning oceanic view of them, reflecting the purity of his soul outwards. 

But it wasn’t until Charles got home that he realised just why the boy’s eyes weren’t going anywhere from his head. 

Charles dropped his school bag at the bottom of the stairs and sprinted up them, throwing himself into the room and falling face down onto Max’s bed. He pushed himself upwards until he was sandwiched between Daniel and Max, breaking up their cuddle and probably make out session. 

“Oh my god, I’m in love, help me.”

Max sighed and patted Charles’ hair before pushing him onto Daniel and standing up to leave the room. Charles pressed his forehead into Daniel’s shoulder whilst Daniel rubbed his back comfortingly. 

When Max came back, he nudged the back of Charles’ leg with his foot and muttered, 

“Sit up shitface.”

Charles sat up and pulled his legs to his chest. He balanced his chin on his knees and hiccupped out another breath. 

Max pressed himself against Charles’ side and handed over a spoon. 

Charles didn’t even look down before dragging his spoon through the ice cream and shoving it in his mouth. The tub was placed between the three of them and Daniel took another spoon. 

“Go on then, tell us all about him.” Max said, smiling comfortingly at his brother. 

Charles looked back at him, then turned to look at Daniel. They had matching smiles. 

Charles had missed this. 

It was nice to have it back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of course I had to it on another semi-cliffhanger
> 
> Would it really be me if I didn't?
> 
> But anyway, thank you all for coming on this journey through a lot of pain and torture. I could go on for awhile and be soppy but I am going to refrain myself (also I already did that on Tumblr and I don't need to keep torturing everyone with my emotions) and instead just say, whether you've been on this journey from chapter 1, somewhere along the middle, or you're reading this far into the future long after it is finished, thank you.
> 
> It was a joy to write and a joy to share and I've adored these daily uploads and interactions and the love and adoration for the world I created for these boys to live in. 
> 
> Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. 
> 
> Kudos, comments and feedback is always greatly appreciated. 
> 
> Tumblr is at 3303andmore if you want to come and shout prompts/requests at me or just about anything else. 
> 
> Thank you again, one last time, 
> 
> Kai x


End file.
